All Was Well
by kelly marie 123
Summary: The story of how Ron and Hermione carry out their lives after the downfall of Voldemort. Picks up at the very end of Book 7 pre epilogue. Mostly a R/Hr story, but with some H/G and other characters as well.
1. The Boy Who Lived Twice

Author's Note: This is a revamped edition of the original All Was Well, so now Chapter 1 is much longer but also much lovelier! Do enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not in my wildest dreams.

* * *

Those first few minutes after Voldemort fell were surreal. Harry's ears burned as the shouts, the cheers, the sobs fell upon them. There he stood in the middle of them all—hundreds of people pressing in to hug him and touch him, to look into his eyes and see the triumph and disbelief shining in his bright green pupils. The people Harry loved the most formed the inner circle around him, and they all hugged him and hugged each other who knew how many times. How many times did Ron grab his shoulders and let out a noise of elation, how many times did Hermione smile through her tears as she embraced him and kissed his cheeks, how many times did Ginny gaze at him with love and radiance, how many times did Hagrid nearly break his back when he pulled him into a fierce hug, how many times did Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hold each other, how many times did Bill and Fleur share a celebratory kiss? Each of these things could have happened once, or they could have happened a thousand times. What mattered was that they happened.

Harry was beside himself. There were people present who had spoken to him perhaps only once, or maybe they had only stared at him as they passed him in the corridors of Hogwarts, but they had fought on his side in the end; there were shopkeepers who had assisted him in Hogsmeade, including Madam Rosmerta, who had given him Butterbeer in what seemed like another lifetime; there were those revered professors who had taught him most of his magical skills; there were members of his old Quidditch team, of Dumbledore's Army, and of the Order of the Phoenix, people of the finest caliber; and most importantly, there were Ron and Hermione, and Ginny, and Neville and Luna, and Arthur and Molly, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and Percy and George, and Hagrid...those people for whom he had the deepest love, and who loved him enough to keep fighting even when they thought they had lost him, and who had loved him all along. Half of Harry was broken, for he had the greatest yearning to glimpse Fred's and Tonks' and Lupin's victorious faces joining in as well, but they were gone, and he would have to celebrate with those he was fortunate enough to still have by his side.

By the time all the tumult died down, Harry felt as if he had just drank a dozen vials of Felix Felicis: that light, giddy, happy feeling overwhelmed him.

And then the aftermath began. Official business had to be taken care of: the Ministry and the media had to be dealt with, the family members of the injured and deceased had to be notified, the Death Eaters had to be rounded up and carted off to Azkaban or else disposed of.

Most important was the need to eat, drink, and talk. The House-Elves, with the assistance of some of the students who had remained behind, filled the House tables with abundant amounts of food, pumpkin juice, Butterbeer, wine, and mead. The result was an impromptu feast that drew people together for table conversation while those witches and wizards above Hogwarts age handled pressing matters in between bites of bacon and gulps of juice.

In the midst of this scene, new people arrived at the castle. Xenophilius Lovegood, who had been released by his captors, was reunited with Luna, who cried happily as she clung to her father; Andromeda Tonks' arrival was not quite as joyous. Kingsley, McGonagall, Arthur and Molly comforted the bereaved woman as they made plans for Lupin and Tonks and what was to be done for Teddy.

And at one high point, Kingsley Shacklebolt was named temporary Minister of Magic. The news was met with cheers and roars from all the occupants of the Great Hall, and Kingsley wanted to act right away, which was why, when Ron looked up from one of the long tables, he saw Kingsley having a serious conversation with his parents.

"Look at that, Perce. I'll bet Kingsley's asking Dad to be his right-hand man," Ron said. "You might actually have the chance to work in a decent organization now."

Percy smiled humorlessly, and then glanced at George, who was watching Kingsley grasp his mother's hand.

"Ron's right, Perce," said George as he turned his attention to his elder brother. "This is your chance to do something more at the Ministry than just study samples of dragon fertilizer from Norway."

Ron laughed in spite of himself, and the small ounce of humor caused the corners of Percy's and George's mouths to twitch.

"I know that was you, by the way," Percy told George, lifting his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"The dragon dung!" said Percy, so loudly that some people actually looked around at him. Percy lowered his voice. "It took me a little while to figure it out, but I eventually guessed that it was...that it was you two."

The feeble spark of light in George's eyes went out; he swallowed, smiled sadly, and said in a falsely cheery voice, "Ah, well, no sense denying it now, I guess. I hope you liked the pretty pink package we sent it in."

Charlie and Bill walked over just then and sidled onto the bench beside Ron, Bill clapping Ron on the back as he sat down. "Did you see Kingsley with Mum and Dad?" Charlie asked his brothers.

"Yeah," said Ron. "'Bout time he gets what he's deserved for so long."

"So Kingsley definitely made him an offer?" Bill asked.

"We're not sure," said Percy, "but it looks that way."

Bill and Charlie looked pleased.

"So when are you gonna tell us, Ron?" George asked suddenly. He seemed keen to keep conversation going, to keep himself engaged in what was going on around him.

Ron was confused, not least by the slightly manic expression on George's face. "Tell you what?"

"Come off it!" said George. "What you've been doing all year! Running 'round with Harry and Hermione, chipping away at You-Know-Who bit-by-bit, getting closer to Hermione bit-by-bit..."

Ron's ears turned pink in trademark Weasley fashion, and his brothers didn't miss it.

"Has something happened with Hermione?" asked Percy, as Charlie said, "Yeah, did I miss something?"

Ron shrugged. "Nothing really," he said evasively. "We just finally got where we've been heading..."

"The altar?" asked George, a twinkle of mischief illuminating his face again.

"No, you git," said Ron. "I just meant...we're sort of together...I think."

"Congratulations, Ron," said Percy, who was clearly trying to act like a good older brother.

"Yeah, glad you finally got there," Bill chimed in.

"So what about everything else?" asked George. "Why you broke into Gringotts, what the hell a Horcrux is..."

"You know," said Ron thoughtfully, "I have a feeling it's a story Harry will want the whole family to hear. So you'll find out soon enough, I expect. Once everything settles down. I couldn't tell you everything without Harry, anyway...he hasn't filled me in on the last few hours yet."

His brothers accepted this answer, and the five redheaded men lapsed into a thoughtful and, though not one of them said it, bereft silence, each of them experiencing acute pangs and wishing there could be just one more brother sitting at the table with them.

* * *

Hermione found Ron eventually. She had kept her eye on him all throughout the morning as his company changed from that of his brothers to the other Gryffindor boys to that of his mother and father. It didn't surprise her that they had been apart for most of the morning; he needed his family, she knew, and she also knew they had yearned for the company of their other friends for so many months now. Yet she had had her fill of other people for the time being, and it was Ron she wanted to sit with, and Ron she wanted to talk to.

"Hi," he said brightly as she sat down next to him.

Hermione found his hand and squeezed it."How are you doing?"

Ron shrugged. "So-so. I'm more tired than anything, to be honest."

"Me too." She propped her elbow up on the table and leaned into her right hand. Ron mirrored her action and turned his face toward her.

"Can you believe it's finally over?" he asked.

She squinted in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. "No. It all feels so strange."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I don't know that I'll fully grasp it all until we get a moment with just the three of us."

Hermione nodded in assent. "I hope that happens soon. It's really disconcerting to go from spending all my time with you and Harry to having to share you with the entire castle."

Ron smiled. "I know what you mean. But he'll come find us eventually—you know he can only stand so much of this."

Again she nodded. Then, in the quietest of voices, as if afraid she was pushing her luck, she asked, "Ron? How's your family?"

He looked away for a full minute. Hermione feared that she had made a mistake and touched his arm gently.

"Ron—?"

Ron turned to look at her. "My parents are a wreck," he said quietly. "Mum has this deadened look in her eyes, and Dad's voice shakes when he speaks. I tried to talk to them but..." he trailed off. "And my brothers are devastated. George is trying to keep a brave face on, he's still cracking jokes, but I can tell just by watching him that he's completely messed up. And I haven't even had a chance to really speak to Ginny yet..."

Ron swallowed and breathed in; Hermione watched the movement in his chest.

"I feel so awful," Ron whispered.

Hermione could do nothing but caress his hand with her fingers; she kept her eyes trained on his wet blue ones, wishing she could take his heart and wrap it in her own and make it whole again.

"If I said I felt hollow," Ron muttered, "would you know what I meant?"

Hermione nodded. "I feel hollow, too, Ron," she whispered, "but I think your hollowness is much bigger."

"Yeah," said Ron, hanging his head and nodding gravely. Then, a moment later: "But you know what, we can talk about this later."

The sudden change in his voice and his body language threw Hermione for a loop, and she frowned; she was clearly concerned. "Are you sure?" she asked him.

"_Hermione_," said Ron, "please stop worrying so much. I promise I'll still feel just as depressed later on, so you can take care of me then. But if we keep talking about this now I'm bound to lose it, and I'd rather not cause a scene in the Great Hall."

"Alright. Let's not talk about it, then."

"Good," Ron sighed, filing his grief away in the back of his mind. "Let's talk about happy things. Like the fact that Kreacher has promised to make me a four-course dinner later on."

"_Ron!_"

"What?"

"You honestly asked him to make you a _four-course _dinner? Ron, he's celebrating, too! You can't tear him away from the party so he can make you dinner!"

"Actually, Hermione," Ron said with a lift of the eyebrows, "he volunteered to do this, and it's for a very special occasion, you see."

"What special occasion? What could possibly be more special than Harry's defeat of Voldemort?"

"I have a big date tonight," Ron explained, "with a very special girl, and I want her to have the finest dining experience available."

Hermione looked confused for the slightest second, but then, slowly, her face split into a wide smile. "Are you asking me on a date, Ron?"

"Well, not asking so much as telling, but yeah." Ron grinned, looking very pleased with himself. "I'm taking you down to the kitchens so we can have some privacy. Does that sound alright?"

Hermione could not stop beaming. "That sounds lovely, Ron."

"Good."

"Would you mind if I kept all this dirt and grime on me, or were you thinking we should dress up?" she teased.

"Oh no, I prefer theme-dating, Hermione, and tonight we should go with the 'War Hero' theme. Definitely."

Hermione placed both of her hands around his. "I'm glad you haven't lost your sense of humor, Ron. It's one of the best things about you."

Ron's ears went pink for the second time that day.

* * *

Harry was talking to Neville when he saw Kingsley, Arthur, and Molly approaching him. His heart beat immediately sped up; he was dreading speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, wondering what he could possibly say to the parents who had lost their son because of him.

"...and did you see Gran take out Brodney? She was great, hit him straight in the face with a Stunning spell!"

"Yeah," muttered Harry distractedly, staring over Neville's shoulder.

Neville looked around and saw Kingsley and the Weasley's. "Oh," he said. "I'll give you a moment. See you, Harry."

He sped off and a horde of girls immediately surrounded him. Harry was left standing alone in a corner of the Hall; Kingsley reached him first, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, in his deep voice, "Harry. The man of the hour. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry answered, making eye contact with both Kingsley and the Weasley's. Arthur and Molly were smiling at him.

"We've been discussing what to do with the Death Eaters," said Kingsley. "Those that remain, that is. We're still trying to figure out whether or not Thicknesse was actually Imperiused, but regardless, he left behind a huge mess we'll have to clean up." Kingsley glanced at Mr. Weasley. "I've asked Arthur to be my Chief Operations Officer, which is essentially second-in-command, and fortunately, he has accepted the offer."

"Congratulations, Mr. Weasley!" said Harry, smiling in spite of himself and shaking Arthur's hand.

"Thank you, Harry," Mr. Weasley returned graciously.

"Harry," said Kingsley, "I thought we should tell you that the media has now been informed of everything that's happened in the past twelve hours or so, which means the news of your victory will be spreading all over the country and throughout the world. I just wanted to warn you so you're not overwhelmed if there's a significant response...which," he added, "I think there will be."

"Right," said Harry.

Kingsley nodded. "I'll do my best to keep it under control, I know it's the last thing you want right now."

"Thanks, Kingsley," Harry said. "I really appreciate that. And congratulations, by the way."

"I should be the one congratulating you, Harry, but thank you." He patted his shoulder. "I'll be around," he said, nodding to Arthur and Molly; then he strode away.

"Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight embrace, "I'm so very proud of you."

"So am I, Harry," Mr. Weasley added. "You were extremely brave."

Harry was reminded of his own parents' words to him in the forest, and the parallel caused a lump to form in his throat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I'm so sorry about...about Fred."

Molly released him and patted his face as Arthur touched his shoulder. "We are, too, Harry," said Molly, tears welling in her swollen eyes, "but we're so grateful for everything you've done."

"No, please..." Harry swallowed. "Please understand how very sorry I am. It was my fault—"

"Harry," Arthur interrupted, and Harry was surprised to hear the sternness in his voice, "We will have none of that. This was nobody's fault except Voldemort's. Our family willingly chose to fight—as did Lupin, Tonks, and everyone else—because we believed nothing was more important than defeating him. We understood the danger we were facing."

Harry blinked several times and nodded.

"Harry," said Mrs. Weasley gently, "we would have stuck by you no matter what, don't you know that? You're a part of our family."

The lump in Harry's throat was nearly overwhelming him; his eyes were itching.

"We're just so thankful that you and Ron and Hermione are safe," said Mrs. Weasley. "We worried about you all year."

"We worried about all of you, too," Harry told them. "And I definitely missed your cooking, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly smiled. "Yes, well, you certainly look _much _too thin, Harry. We'll have to fix that. As soon as things at Hogwarts clear up, we'll all head home and spend some time together."

Harry smiled back as she patted his cheek again. Nothing was going to be easy, but at least he had family.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were talking softly to each other when Harry, under cover of his Cloak, found them. There were people sitting all around them, but Harry's two best friends were almost isolated in a way, completely focused on each other and their quiet conversation. _Of course, _Harry thought, thinking that nearly everyone else had jumped at the chance to shake his hand, to give him a hug, to quiz him in detail about how he had defeated Lord Voldemort. Yet Ron and Hermione, in the mark of true friendship, had not done such a thing. They sat at the end of a table minding their own business, completely unassuming and at ease: they must have known he would come find them in the end. Harry's heart warmed at the sight of them.

"It's me," he whispered, crouching down between them. Both Hermione and Ron started, but the brief movement went unnoticed by anyone else.

"Will you come with me?" Harry asked them.

At once, they rose from their seats, turned, and followed Harry out of the Hall. Not until they were on the ruined marble staircase did Harry remove the Invisibility Cloak.

"I reckon you'll still have to carry that thing around, Harry," said Ron, as Harry stowed the Cloak in his pocket, "but for fear of mentally unstable fanatics, rather than Death Eaters."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, well, at least they won't be after my blood."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't be so sure. People are really creepy these days. Remember that one lunatic fan who was obsessed with Lockhart?"

"You mean that Gladys lady? Or whatever her name was?"

"No, I meant Hermione," said Ron.

"Ron, I _will_ punch you in the face," said Hermione as Harry roared with laughter. "And who cares about obsessive Harry Potter fans? I want to hear about everything that happened!"

In painstaking detail, Harry told Ron and Hermione the story of everything he had seen in the Pensieve, stopping only once to hear the ludicrous song Peeves was singing ("Really gives a feeling for the scope and tragedy of the thing, doesn't it?" asked Ron). Ron and Hermione were both in awe of the story of Lily and Snape, which they felt was the missing piece that answered so many questions about Harry's story, and both of them looked angry when Harry told them about Dumbledore's Machiavellian approach to Voldemort's defeat.

"He was _using_ you?" said Ron angrily.

"I can't believe this! Maybe you were right about him all along, Harry!" Hermione fumed.

"No, I wasn't. Listen..."

And he told them about everything that happened in the forest, including how he had resurrected his parents, Sirius, and Lupin. Hermione had tears in her eyes and Ron looked unusually sympathetic. Harry recalled the meeting with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, of how he had heard the _Avada Kedavra_ curse, and of the bizarre meeting with Dumbledore in King's Cross.

"But was it a dream?" asked Hermione in amazement.

"I doubt it," said Harry.

"Well then what was it?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But everything Dumbledore and I talked about is, I think, true."

He then went on to explain how he had found himself lying face down on the forest floor, miraculously alive; of how Narcissa lied for him so that she could save Draco; of how Hagrid had carried him through the forest.

"And, well, you know the rest," said Harry.

Hermione and Ron didn't speak for a couple of minutes: they both looked somber.

"What?" asked Harry. "What is it?"

Hermione looked up at him as they walked. "We were just really scared, that's all."

"Yeah," said Ron. "We really believed you were dead."

Harry looked at the floor. "Oh."

"You can't imagine what it was like, Harry, to hear Voldemort say that as we were standing in the middle of all that...carnage. I felt like I'd just walked into a thousand Dementors."

"All of us—the whole family—we all started panicking, and then we ran outside and saw you like that..."

"Yeah," said Harry, uncomfortable with the notion of his friends mourning him, "but you kept fighting, didn't you?"

Ron looked surprised. "Well, yeah, of course we did."

"It just—it means a lot to know you would've kept going even though you thought I was dead."

Ron shrugged in a "Well, duh" kind of way, and Hermione placed her arm around Harry's waist and squeezed him as they walked.

"We're just thankful you're here, Harry," she said thickly.

"And I'm thankful you two are here," said Harry.

"Yeah," said Ron, as they reached Dumbledore's office, "and I'm thankful that Peeves has finally stopped singing."

Peeves had, indeed, quieted down at last. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped onto the spiral staircase that wound its way up to the Headmaster's Office, Ron and Hermione still emitting noises of amazement and wonder at Harry's tale.

When they entered the room, the portraits on the walls applauded for minutes on end, and then Harry spoke to Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione listened intently, marveling at their best friend and their old Headmaster and the grand resolution which had just unfolded. Harry sought advice for what to do with the Deathly Hallows, and, though Ron thought him mad, decided to put the Elder Wand back where he had found it.

Dumbledore's painted face was still wet with tears when Harry turned back towards Ron and Hermione. He had an air of finality about him, like he had just sealed a business deal. "Want to head up to Gryffindor Tower?" he asked them. "I could probably get Kreacher to bring us some food up there."

Hermione glanced at Ron and rolled her eyes; Ron grinned back before responding to Harry. "That sounds brilliant, mate. I'm in."

"Good. Hermione?"

She smiled. "Let's go."

Dumbledore smiled fondly at the three of them as they strode to the door of the study. And Harry, as he placed his hand upon the doorknob in order to take his exit, couldn't help but think that the last time he had left this office, he hadn't expected to come back.

* * *

"Do you think she'll remember us?"

"Of course she'll remember us! We've only been gone a year, Hermione."

"But think of all the new people she's met by this point. And think of how long she's been around for, Ron. She can't possibly remember _everyone_."

"We're not _everyone_. There's only one Harry Potter to have ever gone through this school, and I'm pretty damn sure she would remember him."

"Well that's great for Harry, Ron, but you're not Harry."

"Will you two shut up?" said Harry. "We'll find out in a minute anyway!"

It turned out that the Fat Lady _did _remember them ("I told you, Hermione," said Ron smugly) and swung forward to admit them as usual, remarking as she did so that it was an honor to serve the most worthy Gryffindors she had ever known.

The three of them walked into the common room and immediately felt at home. It was just as they remembered it; apparently the Carrows had not been able to enter Gryffindor Tower and pervert it with their own stylings. Harry walked over to his favorite armchair by the fire, reclined in it, and closed his eyes.

"Are you planning on sleeping there?" asked Ron.

"Shut it," said Harry. "My arse hasn't been this comfortable in a year."

Grinning, Hermione and Ron followed suit and sat down in their old chairs.

"It feels great to be back here," said Harry.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I'm glad Gryffindor Tower wasn't destroyed by the battle."

Hermione let out an _mmhmm_ and the three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, eyes closed, savoring the opportunity to finally relax.

"Alright," said Harry, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his face, "now I'm ready for my four-poster." He stood up and stretched, then looked at Ron and Hermione, who had not moved.

"Aren't you turning in for a bit? We've been awake for—" he checked Fabian Prewett's watch—"nearly 30 hours now."

Ron looked at Hermione, who looked at Harry and said, "Well, actually, Ron and I have a—thing—to do later, so we can't go to bed just yet."

"'A thing,'" Harry repeated.

"A date," Ron clarified. "I'm taking her on a date."

Both Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry, waiting to see how he would take this bit of news. Harry looked merely baffled at first, but then his face broke into a genuine grin.

"Right," he said smugly, looking between the two of them. "I'd almost forgotten about what happened in the Room of Requirement."

"Well that's funny," said Ron, "seeing as how you're the one who interrupted us."

Harry shrugged. "You have to admit, it wasn't the most opportune timing. I guess it was bound to happen, though; you two couldn't have lasted much longer. I should have expected it."

Ron and Hermione blushed.

"So does this mean you're all 'official' now?" Harry teased, ignoring their obvious discomfort.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Harry James Potter," she warned, "I don't care if you've just defeated the Dark Lord: I will curse you, here and now, if you take the mickey out of us one more time."

Harry laughed as Ron grinned appreciatively. "Alright, Hermione, alright," Harry said. "I'll stop. Go have fun on your date."

And with that, he headed up to the seventh year boys' dormitory.

* * *

Ginny and Luna had been out on the grounds for nearly half an hour's time when Ginny's patience left her.

"_Where_ have they got to?" she asked Luna. "They've been gone all year, traveling to God knows where, and now that they're back here they just wander off!"

Luna smiled sympathetically. "Ginny," she said calmly, "I'm sure they just had some final business to attend to. They do want to see you, of course."

Ginny sighed. "I really, really missed them, Luna."

"So did I. I was so happy when I got to see them again."

"Do you think it will be weird?" Ginny asked in a quiet voice, and when Luna looked confused, Ginny decided to admit to the small fear that had been plaguing her for some time: "What I mean is," she said, "the three of them have been on their own for nine months now, and I don't know anything that's happened. But now the rest of the Wizarding World will be finding out at the same time as me, and I'm just worried they'll get sucked into some kind of celebrity hailstorm, and I'll be left behind—"

"Ginny," said Luna in an unusually authoritative voice, "that's enough. You know them better than that. You fell for Harry because he wouldn't do that_ at all._"

Ginny stared and blinked. She felt ashamed of herself, not least because she had gotten Luna worked up. "You're right," she sighed. "Of course you're right. I just really love him. I love all three of them. But now they're back, and I'm not sure where I fit into all of this."

Luna's eyes, so big and blue and reassuring, looked into Ginny's. "Let me tell you," she said, her voice returning to its dreamy quality. "They need you, Ginny. They've spent months on the run, dealing with things no person would want to deal with, and it's going to be hard for them to readjust to normal life. It will be hard for all of us, but especially for them. And they _need_ you to make the transition easier...Harry especially."

Luna's words put Ginny's heart at rest. "Thanks, Luna," she said. "You're much keener on people than I would have expected. I don't mean that in an offensive way, though."

"No, I know," said Luna. "I'm difficult to figure out. That's what my mother always told me. Dean said so as well." She smiled serenely, like it was her greatest joy that people thought she was difficult to figure out. "You should go find them, Ginny."

It was the small push that Ginny needed, and she set off for Gryffindor Tower at once, feeling excited.

* * *

Hermione was drying her hair when the door to the bathroom opened. She glanced in the mirror and saw Ginny's smile reflected there.

"I was hoping you'd be in here," Ginny said.

Hermione turned around, towel in her hair, to face her friend. Ginny still looked battle worn and exhausted; her eyes were red—proof of her grief—but at the moment she looked content.

"Getting cleaned up, are we?" asked Ginny.

"Attempting to. But I've still got burns and scratches all over myself—"

"Oh, it won't matter, Ron likes his women rugged."

Hermione smiled, and Ginny must have seen something in it, for she cried, "Her-_my_-oh-nee Granger! Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Hermione was caught off guard for a moment, but then she exclaimed, "How do you _do _that? All I did was smile! I don't see you for months, then you come in here for two seconds and you've already figured me out!"

Ginny marched over, plopped herself down in one of the vanity chairs, and said, "Details. Now."

It wasn't like Hermione to take orders from anyone, but this was Ginny, her makeshift-sister and strongest female ally, so what choice did she really have? She was dying to tell someone anyway...

"I kissed Ron."

Ginny gaped, almost comically. "What! When?"

"Only hours ago, in the Room of Requirement. He said something about wanting to save House-Elves, and I went a bit...crazy." She grinned sheepishly.

Ginny still stared at Hermione with wide eyes, but then she began to laugh with delight. "Oh Merlin, Ninny...I can't believe it."

"Do _not_ start calling me that again."

"Why not? I've told you, according to that Muggle baby names book, it's a perfectly suitable nickname! And it rhymes with mine. What more could you want?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you want to hear about the kiss or not?"

"Hmm...good question. I've only been waiting about three years for this to finally bloody happen—"

"Well then shush! You're probably the only person I'm going to tell, so I want to do this right."

Ginny smiled fondly at her, all silliness aside. "Okay, I'm listening, Hermione. Tell me everything."

Hermione wasn't even sure where she should begin. After thinking it through for a minute, she settled on telling Ginny everything that had happened between herself and Ron from the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding up until the present; she recounted the hand-holding, the talks, his reaction to her torture...everything except his desertion. Ginny was giggling one second and widening her eyes at the next—she had heard only a few small details about Hermione's rumored torture and was eager to know the full story, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"_That_," she said contemptuously, "is something I'll tell you another time. We want to tell the whole family together. So, anyway, when we were at Shell Cottage..."

And finally, Hermione told Ginny about what happened in the Room of Requirement and everything that had led up to it: how Ron had had the idea to procure some basilisk fangs and how he and Hermione had gone into the Chamber of Secrets together.

"What?" Ginny asked, feeling her pulse quicken. "Why on earth did you need to go down there?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, thinking she had been insensitive. "It was all part of destroying Voldemort, I promise we'll tell you really soon."

Ginny looked hurt and bewildered, so Hermione hurried on: "Well then we met up with Harry, and we ran down into the Room of Requirement and saw you, and right after you left, it happened!"

"Are you kidding me?" said Ginny. "For years now I've been hearing about you and Ron, and you decide to kiss him the minute I leave? I mean, not that I would really want to see that, but still..."

Hermione laughed. "No, I imagine you would have had the same reaction as Harry."

"Which was what?"

"He interrupted us," Hermione explained, earning a gleeful laugh from Ginny. "I didn't really catch the first part of what he said, because I was so preoccupied, obviously, but then he said something about us being in the middle of a war, and Ron said something like, 'Yeah, we know, so it's now or never,' but then Harry asked us to 'hold it in' until we had found the last Horcrux!"

Ginny sniggered. "_Hold it in _?" she repeated. "Really? How very like him..."

* * *

It was silly, really, that the first thing she thought when she traipsed down the girls' staircase and found Ron waiting for her in the Common Room was that _this _was how she always imagined the Yule Ball could have been. She felt pretty, and what was more, she felt confident. The combination of cuts, burns, and bruises on her body with her done-up hair and make-up made her feel both heroic and sexy.

Ron was leaning against one of the couches, looking casually cool. He had shaven and cut his hair and was wearing his nicest navy sweater. He was also wearing the most delighted smile on his face: a smile that had been triggered by her sudden appearance in the stairwell.

"Hi," she said breathlessly.

"Hi," he returned. "Ready?"

She nodded nervously. Ron shocked her by holding out his hand to her; she grasped it eagerly with her own, and they walked out of Gryffindor Tower together.

Hermione felt dazed and overwhelmingly giddy. She was punch-drunk with tiredness, she knew, but she was also dizzy with excitement. As they walked, she began to talk nervously about the goings-on of the castle: whose parents had come to call, who was out of the Hospital Wing, who she had had time to catch up with. Ron contributed his own bits and pieces to the conversation, all the while pulling her along with his hand, a look of delirious contentment upon his face.

They reached the kitchens in no time. Ron let Hermione do the honors of tickling the pear in the portrait of fruit: the door opened easily and the two of them stepped inside to the warm and inviting kitchen.

There were only a half-dozen elves occupying the kitchens this time; the rest of them were still enjoying the festivities in the Great Hall. Kreacher hurried over to Ron and Hermione and bowed, his long snout touching the floor like always.

"No need for that, Kreacher," said Ron, "but if you can manage it, we'd like a table for two. The best seats in the house, if you don't mind."

Kreacher led them to the only table in the room, which was small, round, and covered with an old lace table-cloth. Two small candles had been lit and placed in the middle of it.

"Oh, Kreacher, this is wonderful!" Hermione gushed. "Thank you so much!"

Kreacher grunted and left them to sit down.

"Not bad, eh?" said Ron. "It's perfectly private, just like I wanted. Well, except for the House-Elves, of course, but it's kind of fitting that they're here, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. House-Elves are practically the cornerstone of our relationship!"

Hermione looked at him like he had gone mad.

"Ah, come on now, think about it," said Ron. "All those years you drove me crazy with your spewstuff, and I finally got it in the end, didn't I? If I hadn't said anything about wanting to save them all—"

"—I wouldn't have passionately attacked you in the Room of Requirement?"

Ron grinned. "Precisely."

"Well, you're wrong there," said Hermione. "I probably would have done that at some point or another, you just finally provided the one impetus I couldn't resist."

"Right: the Elves. So, therefore, they're our cornerstone!"

Hermione laughed. "Well, that's an interesting way to think about it, I guess...I mean, I wouldn't exactly say they're the _cornerstone _of our relationship..."

"What is, then?" Ron challenged.

Hermione smiled uncertainly at him. "I would venture to say something more along the lines of friendship, a mutual trust, the notion of 'opposites attract'..."

"Oh." Ron smiled again. "Yeah, well, those would probably be better descriptions, now you mention it."

Just then, Kreacher sidled over with a basket of bread rolls and placed it on the table between them. They thanked him, and as he walked away, Ron jerked his head in Kreacher's direction: "I still owe the House-Elves, though. Like you said, they gave you the '_impetus'_ to finally kiss me!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You know, _you_ could have just kissed _me_ if you wanted it that badly."

"Oh, believe me, I wanted to," said Ron. "But it always seemed to be the wrong time. Especially when I came back at Christmas hoping to tell you how I felt about you, but you punched me instead..."

"Well, I apologize for the punching," said Hermione, squeezing his hand. "You could try now, though."

"Try what?"

"Telling me how you feel."

Ron looked taken aback. He paused in the act of breaking his roll and blinked at her a couple of times. She tried her best to hold his gaze.

"Alright," he said after a moment, shifting in his seat a little bit. "Here's the truth of the matter, Hermione." Hermione's heart pounded as Ron took a deep breath and said: "Thing is, I've wasted years and years because of my own idiocy, but I don't want to be an idiot anymore. What I want more than anything is...to be with you."

Hermione let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Ron seemed to take this as a good sign because he continued, "We've talked about everything that's happened in the past. You know that I'm sorry and I know that you're sorry."

She nodded.

"And we talked after everything that happened at Malfoy Manor."

She nodded again.

"So I know we've both been on the same page—at least, I think we have." He glanced at her worriedly for a moment and waited for her to smile before he carried on. "Well, now I suppose the only thing that's left to say is the fact of the matter, which, like I just said, is that I want to be with you. Properly."

Hermione blushed. Something in her inner being was shifting into place. "I suppose I didn't have to make you say all of that," she said quietly. "We both know how we feel."

"It's okay," said Ron, "a little confirmation never hurt anyone. And besides, we had to wait forever to actually have this conversation."

"Yeah," said Hermione, "and it feels weird, because I feel like we should be talking about where to look for Horcruxes or which location to pitch the tent in next."

They both laughed softly, and then Ron said, "You know, it's funny. We spent all those months putting off getting together, saying we couldn't focus on our relationship because Harry needed us. And then at the one time we _really_ should have been focusing on Harry and the war—"

"—We couldn't control ourselves."

Ron laughed. "Yeah."

"Well, you know what they say...heat of the moment and everything. But I'm glad it happened."

Ron looked at her tenderly. "So am I, Hermione."

* * *

The walk from the kitchens back to Gryffindor Tower seemed impossibly shorter, or maybe that was just the tiredness that was taking its toll on the two of them. Hermione felt like she was seeing spots, and as she watched Ron, he kept widening his eyes and blinking rapidly in order to keep his eyelids open.

They were about to round the corner that would take them to the portrait of the Fat Lady when Ron came to a halt. Hermione had tried to keep walking, but he tugged on her hand and she doubled back.

"What is it?" she asked him.

Ron looked nervous. "I want to kiss you again before we get back."

Hermione's heart started pounding. "Oh. Well...yes, that's a good idea."

She stared at him. He stared at her. Neither one of them breathed.

Hermione was still gripping Ron's hand. She looked down at their fingers, feeling shy and nervous. Her cheeks were warming.

"Hermione?" Ron asked breathlessly.

Hermione looked up at him. "Yes?"

Ron bounced on the balls of his feet. "I'm...I'm not quite...are you as scared as I am?"

Her heart was racing as she tried to keep her cool. "Scared of what?"

"I'm not...sure. It's just that I've always wanted to kiss you so badly that I sort of don't know how to begin."

His words were delightful, and yet she felt so timid. She looked down at their joint hands again and said, "I think it's hard because we're being deliberate this time. And in the Room of Requirement it just sort of...happened."

"Yeah."

There was silence for a full thirty seconds as Hermione looked down at their hands and Ron looked down at the top of her head.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Would this be less awkward somewhere else?"

She considered. "Maybe we could go sit on the couch by the fire?"

Ron nodded with far too much gusto. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."

The Common Room was mercifully empty when they entered it less than a minute later. Ron pulled Hermione over to the sofa by the fireplace and they sat themselves upon it. Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket, pointed it at the grate, and caused huge flames to erupt in it.

Ron was studying her when she turned back to face him.

"What?" she asked, causing him to blush.

"I'm just wondering," said Ron, "how _you_ feel."

"What?" she asked again.

"You asked me in the kitchens how I felt about you and I told you. Now it's your turn. How do you feel about me?"

Hermione thought he was joking. Had she not just intimated to him only an hour ago that she felt the same way? The corners of her mouth drew upwards in a smile as she waited for him to give up the gag.

He wasn't letting her off that easy, though.

"I need to hear you say it, Hermione," he said earnestly.

"Hear me say what, Ron?" she replied, testing the boundary line. Ron wasn't giving anything away. He simply stared at her with eyes full of apprehension and hope. Was he waiting for her to say...

"...that I love you?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron drew in the slightest breath, and Hermione received all the confirmation she needed in that small gesture.

"Oh," she said in wonder. "Yes, that is what you want me to say, isn't it?" She raised her arm and touched the side of his head with her hand. His thin red hair was soft and she could smell its distinctive scent, that rich, clean aroma which she had detected in the Amortentia in Slughorn's potions class.

The emotion inside her chest was welling. It was both familiar and refreshing: the kind of heartfelt buildup she experienced whenever she thought of Ron and what he meant to her. Why not tell him tonight, on the same day as their first kiss? She remembered the conversation she had had with him a full year ago, when they had stood looking out over the grounds, discussing Harry and Ginny's relationship: "_If he loves her," _Ron had said_, "he should just tell her. I don't buy that whole wait-until-you've-been-together-for-a-certain-amount-of-time thing. If you love someone, you should let them know."_

Hermione sucked in a breath and felt like she might choke on it. "You should know, Ron," she said shakily, "that I love you very much. Very, very much. More than anything in the world. That's how I feel."

Ron's cheeks were on fire and his disbelieving smile was overtaking his face. Hermione felt a lump in her throat; it felt so good to say those words that she felt her eyes start to water. And the next thing she felt was Ron's hand on the back of her head pulling her face close to his, and then their lips were touching again and she was somehow both crying and making out with Ron at the same time.

"Aren't you going to...say it back?" Hermione asked between kisses.

"Can't," said Ron as he kissed her again, "I love you so much that I can't express it with words."

Hermione giggled. "You just did."

"Oh damn," said Ron dryly, "so I did." Then he pulled her to him and kissed her again—kissed her in a way he had never kissed anyone before, because this was Hermione, and he was in love with her, and Voldemort was gone, and their future was spread out before them with endless possibilities.

Some time later, when they started to nod off while still attempting to snog, Hermione decided it would be prudent for them to finally get some sleep. After she had searched through her now-unnecessary beaded bag to find their pajamas and toothbrushes, they fell into Ron's bed in the old circular dormitory, elated and exhausted. Hermione sunk into the pillows, reveling in the feel of a soft bed beneath her and Ron's arm around her, his hand stroking her hair.

"Hermione?" Ron asked softly.

"Hmm?" was her reply.

"I'm really bloody tired, but I don't want to sleep."

"Why not?"

Ron felt a restriction building in his throat; he swallowed and said, "This night was so wonderful. I don't want it to end. The longer I postpone sleeping, the longer I can postpone waking up. And I don't want to wake up because then I'll have to deal with the reality of...things."

Hermione opened her eyes, rolled over to face Ron, and looked at him tenderly. "Oh, Ron..."

He felt the sting in his eyes and blinked several times in rapid succession. "It actually happened, didn't it," he said in a hollow voice.

Hermione's eyes filled slowly with tears as she looked at him: his resolve was finally cracking. Lifting her hand, she settled it softly upon his forehead and proceeded to brush his hair away from his eyes. Ron closed his eyes and tried to feel nothing at all except for the beautiful, calming sensation of her warm fingertips on his forehead and in his hair. "I'm trying not to think about it," he whispered to her.

"You can think about it when you're ready to," she told him. "There's a lot to process right now."

"I'm afraid to see my family tomorrow," Ron said, his voice breaking. "We can't hide from it anymore. It's bound to sink in now that the shock of winning is over."

Silence fell for a minute or two as Hermione continued to smooth back Ron's hair.

"I wish I knew how to help you, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I know the pain I'm feeling is nothing compared to what you're going through."

Ron felt a couple of loose tears make their way down his cheeks and he gripped Hermione's hand tightly. "Just promise me you'll be here," he said weakly.

"Of course I will," Hermione said gently as she leaned forward and kissed away the tears on his cheeks. "I would never want to be anywhere else."

Ron took a great steadying breath. "Thanks."

"Just try to relax. We'll take everything step by step, alright?"

He nodded and she felt some of the tension leave his body. She snuggled in closer to him and he kissed the crown of her head.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," she replied.

Exhaustion finally had its way with them, and they fell into a heavy sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning, his heart never having felt lighter, as if he had taken off a belt that had been wrapped around his chest. Turning over, the first thing he saw was his two best friends in the bed next to his, their legs intertwined and their hands loosely linked.

Harry stared at them contentedly for a moment, watching their sleeping forms in the golden sunlight. Then he got up, tucked the covers more securely around them, kissed Hermione on the temple, ruffled Ron's hair, and tiptoed quietly from the room, still in his pajamas, but not before having scribbled a quick note:

_Hey you lot,_

_Meet me in the hall for breakfast when you finally wake up (assuming you can untangle yourselves—eww)._

_Love you both._

_-Harry_

_a.k.a., The Boy Who Lived—Twice._

_(Sorry, couldn't help myself.)_

* * *

Author's Note: Thoughts on the newly-revised first chapter? Please let me know! (Especially because it's so darn long!)

* * *


	2. Keep on Laughing

The first thing Hermione was aware of was light snoring coming from directly behind her right ear. Her eyebrows drew together, because she was somewhat annoyed, but mostly perplexed, and her closed eyelids attempted to ward off the incoming sunlight. And then, suddenly, everything clicked into place, and she remembered that she was laying in Ron's bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and this was his arm draped around her and his legs that were touching hers.

In an instant her mind made that great leap from sleep to wakefulness, and in that same instant everything that had happened the day before seemingly materialized in her memory. Voldemort: dead for good. Harry: alive. Ron: alive. Ginny: alive. And yet there had been deaths….

She still did not bother to open her eyes—why should she, when she had all the time in the world? No plans to go over, no food to prepare, not a bit of worrying to be going on with. All she had now—all _they_ had now—was the aftermath of this long and winding journey. It was really too much to take in; images flickered in her mind, battling each other for dominance: the Basilisk in the chamber, Harry's body in Hagrid's arms, Tonks and Lupin laying dead side-by-side, Neville cutting off the snake's head, Malfoy burning in the fire, the entire Weasley family mourning over Fred's still body, Ron's lips on hers at last.

She opened her eyes.

Harry wasn't in his bed, but he had left them a note. She twisted her body away from Ron's so that she could grab the piece of parchment on the nightstand. She read it quickly and let out a small breath of laughter at Harry's "Boy Who Lived Twice" joke. She then detached herself from Ron's grip and sat up on the bed, rubbing her eyes.

Her movements caused Ron to stir. He made a noise of protest but kept his eyes shut, letting his arm fall on the bed next to him. Hermione got to her feet and headed to the bathroom.

When she came out a few minutes later, Ron was, unsurprisingly, still laying in bed, half-asleep.

"Ron," she said softly, sitting on the bed next to his sleeping form, "wake up."

"'Time is it," he grunted.

She grabbed her watch from the nightstand. "Almost ten. Come on, Sleepyhead, you've had a good thirteen hours' rest."

"Still tired."

She rubbed his back. "Come on, _Ron_," she said, drawing out his name. "Harry's left us a funny note—he wants us to meet him for breakfast."

"I've been taking orders from that scrawny git for a year now," said Ron, still trying to sleep, "'M trying to break the habit."

She laughed. "Ron, seriously, get up! It's a beautiful day outside. We could play Quidditch…" she said tantalizingly.

"You're so full of it," he mumbled. "You have no intention of playing Quidditch."

Before she could respond, the door opened, and Neville stood there.

"Oh, hi!" he said brightly. "What are you doing here, Hermione?"

"Um…." She knew her cheeks were getting warm and tried to make up a lie very quickly, but there she was sitting on Ron's bed, and she was still wearing her pajamas. Neville merely chuckled.

"So are you finally—?" he gestured vaguely at Ron.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. "Yes," she said.

"Well that's some more great news," said Neville cheerfully. "'Bout time you plucked up the nerve, Ron."

Ron grunted noncommittally.

"I'm trying to get him out of bed, actually," Hermione explained.

Ron sighed in frustration. "Alright, alright," he said, opening his eyes. "I'm getting up—are you bloody happy now?"

Hermione nodded triumphantly. "Come on, let's get changed and we can go down to the Great Hall—"

"Don't bother changing," said Neville. "Everyone's in their pajamas…actually, some people are in swimming trunks! I reckon no one cares how they look right now, do they? It's like one big party down there."

"Oh, excellent," Ron said enthusiastically as he bounded out of bed.

"Why did you come up here then?" asked Hermione.

"I was getting tired," Neville replied. "Barely slept a wink last night—never even made it past the Common Room. I woke up on the couch this morning surrounded by a whole bunch of Butterbeer and sweets."

"Sounds like a good way to wake up to me," said Ron, putting on his slippers. "Better than waking up to this crazy girl trying to pry me away from my covers."

"Oh shut up," said Hermione. "Let's go get breakfast."

* * *

Ron and Hermione were treated to a great surprise when they entered the Hall a few minutes later. The tables were still laid out just like the night before, but there were everlasting fireworks exploding in the air, and the House-Elves seemed to have outdone themselves in terms of food. It was like stepping into a dream feast: There were chocolate fountains, stacks and stacks of pancakes and waffles, a bathtub-sized bucket full of thirty different flavors of ice cream, strings of candy that dangled from the ceiling, and ice sculptures that resembled Harry (Kreacher's work, surely).

Harry himself was sitting over in a corner, talking to Luna and Ginny, while people stopped to congratulate him every few moments for his defeat of Voldemort. He glanced embarrassingly at the ice sculptures, but Ginny's presence seemed to work wonders on his temperament—or perhaps it was simply the fact that for the first time in his life, he was not a marked man.

Ron and Hermione made their way over to him, stopped every few feet by people patting them on the backs or shouting things like, "It's over!" and "I really can't believe it!" They finally reached Harry, Ginny, and Luna, who smiled happily up at them and scooted over to make room.

"Hello, Hermione! Hello, Ron!" Luna looked simply radiant. Her wide eyes were sparkling happily, her face was not as pale as it had been—and she looked simply overjoyed just to be sitting there with her friends, where she rightfully belonged.

"Hi, Luna," Ron and Hermione chorused.

"Sleep well?" asked Ginny.

"Yeah," said Ron, pushing thoughts of Fred to the back of his mind.

"All this food is amazing!" said Hermione.

"What, no objections from the spew queen?" asked Ron.

"Not today," said Hermione. "Because I know they'll have done this of their own accord."

"I think he's only asking because spew seemed to work favorably for him yesterday—" said Harry.

"Shut up, you," said Ron. "Let's go get some food, Hermione."

But before they could rise from their chairs, Kreacher appeared out of nowhere. "No, no, mister and miss!" he said in his bullfrog voice. "Kreacher can serve you once more, for after all, the Dark Lord has fallen, and Kreacher's master Regulus has been avenged!"

Hermione looked utterly surprised for a moment but then smiled benignly. "That's so very sweet of you, Kreacher. Um…could I just have some pancakes?"

Kreacher nodded. "And for sir?"

"Can you just get me a little bit of everything, Kreacher?" Ron asked him.

"Oh yes, sir, oh certainly, Kreacher can get samples of everything for the noble friend of Harry Potter!"

And he scurried away.

"Wow," said Ron. "You know, I reckon he's channeling Dobby, Harry."

Harry smiled sadly.

* * *

The day passed in a blur of surreal celebration, but as it changed from morning to afternoon to evening, the utter ecstasy and disbelief that accompanied Voldemort's defeat seemed to simmer as other realities sunk in. Death hung over the castle like a rain cloud that was threatening to ruin a party, and while the inhabitants of Hogwarts numbly acknowledged its presence, it was hard to fully absorb the shocking losses they had suffered.

The Weasley's, for their part, were completely torn between unprecedented joy and an all-consuming grief. Ginny and Ron changed moods so frequently that it was hard to know what to say to them; one minute, they were their usual funny selves, and the next minute hollow looks would come over their faces.

Shortly before dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sitting before the entire Weasley family in a chamber off of the Entrance Hall. Arthur and Molly had called a family meeting to discuss plans to return to The Burrow, but there also seemed to be an understated reason for the gathering: everyone wanted to hear about the Horcrux Hunt and Voldemort's defeat in more detail. Harry, Ron, and Hermione therefore found themselves conducting some sort of bizarre, twisted story time in which they relayed everything that had happened to them in the past year.

It took hours. They began with the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding: how they had Disapparated to Tottenham Court Road, how Death Eaters had found them there because of the jinx on Voldemort's name, how they had wound up spending the night in Grimmauld Place and turning it into their home for a month's time.

And then they told the Weasley's about their infiltration into the Ministry of Magic. Arthur and Percy were outraged; Molly started panicking even though the event had happened months ago; Charlie, George, and Ginny looked shocked and baffled; Bill and Fleur looked weary but didn't say anything. These outbursts of emotion continued on with everything that Harry, Ron, and Hermione explained: their months of camping in remote locations; the visit to Godric's Hollow and the horror of Bathilda Bagshot; Harry's discovery of the sword of Gryffindor and Ron's destruction of the locket Horcrux, which had to be extrapolated upon in great detail since the Weasley's knew nothing of Voldemort's Horcruxes; their visit to Xeno Lovegood and the ensuing narrow escape; Hermione's torture at Malfoy Manor, Dobby's death, and their stay at Shell Cottage.

It was this last sequence of events, more than anything, that roused the passions of the entire family.

"So she _was_ tortured!" Bill yelled, looking disgusted.

Arthur could not speak: he was quivering with rage. Ginny and Fleur looked devastated. Charlie, Percy, and George sat gaping wordlessly. And Molly rose from her chair, moved towards Hermione, and hugged her so tightly and for so long that it started to hurt.

"I'm fine," Hermione told the group at large, once Molly had settled down again. "I'm really fine."

Ginny was staring at the thin scar on Hermione's neck—the incontrovertible evidence that Bellatrix had really done what they said she had done. "Ginny, stop it," Hermione said quietly. She was uncomfortable with the entire family staring at her like that. She had done her best to move forward from everything that had happened at Malfoy Manor, but if they started treating her differently, she was bound to lapse back into a horrible kind of post-traumatic stress syndrome.

Ron reached for her hand under the table. She took it and held on tightly, waiting for the moment to pass.

Harry cleared his throat. "Would you like to hear about what we did at Shell Cottage? About how we planned to break into Gringotts?"

Ginny tore her eyes away from Hermione's. "Yes," she told Harry, "but first I have a question. How did you know to escape to Bill and Fleur's?"

Harry looked at Ron. Ron felt a slight panic building in his chest and caught Bill's eye for a second before he answered the question. "I'd been there before," he told Ginny.

"But when? I thought you were off camping the whole time?"

All of Ron's family looked confused. Ron felt heat spreading throughout his face. Should he tell them? How _could _he tell them? Would they think differently of him?

"We asked Ron to go there," said Harry. "I suspected there might be a Horcrux hidden in Gringotts, so we thought we should pay a visit to Bill and find out as much information about Gringotts as we could. You know, do a bit of research." He looked at Hermione.

"Yes," said Hermione, going along with the story immediately, "and Harry and I had to make more Polyjuice Potion so we could visit Godric's Hollow as Muggles, so we didn't have time to go. So Ron went."

The Weasley's seemed to buy it. Bill and Fleur nodded like that had been exactly what happened. Ron felt relieved but hollow. He looked at Hermione but she avoided his gaze.

It took another full hour to finish the story. They had to explain all about Griphook and Ollivander, about breaking into Gringotts and finding Hufflepuff's Cup, about escaping on the dragon and then winding up in Aberforth's bar in Hogsmeade. And _then_ Harry discussed, in great detail, everything about the Elder Wand, about how Snape had been killed, how he had seen Snape's memories in the Pensieve (including how the severing of George's ear had been meant for a Death Eater—George looked aghast at this), and how he had marched to his death in the forest. The Weasley's had nearly the same reaction to this last piece of information as they did to the news of Hermione's torture, but Harry was somewhat more successful at dodging the attention they tried to shed on him.

"Well," said Arthur, "just one more thing before we all break for a rather late dinner. We want to head back to The Burrow tomorrow."

He looked around at his family, but no one commented on this decision, so Arthur continued on. "Your mother and I are going to go to Muriel's first to collect everything we left behind before we came to Hogwarts for the battle. If we can't get everything all at once, it's alright; we can make more trips back there."

"Yeah, because the more we see of that old bat, the better," said George dryly.

Arthur merely flicked his eyes at George before continuing. "We'll then Floo to the Burrow, and the rest of you can join us whenever you see fit. That mainly applies to you four—" he glanced at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny—"since the others all have their own places."

"You will be coming to stay with us, won't you?" Molly asked Harry and Hermione. "At least for a little while?"

"Definitely," said Harry.

"There's nothing I would love more, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione.

"Wonderful," Molly said with a kind smile. "And we'll be sure to bring Crookshanks there for you, Hermione. Ginny took good care of him while you were away."

Hermione glanced at Ginny and beamed.

"Well then, family meeting adjourned," said Arthur. "Let's eat."

One by one, the Weasley's rose from their seats and trickled out the door until only Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained behind.

"Ron," said Harry uncertainly, "your parents didn't say anything about what's to be done for Fred."

"Reckon they didn't want to," Ron muttered. "But they talked to each one of us in private. We're going to bury him at the Burrow."

Harry and Hermione nodded somberly.

"You didn't have to do that, by the way," Ron told Harry.

"Do what?" Harry asked.

"Make up that story about me going to Shell Cottage. You didn't have to save face for me. I don't deserve it."

"Don't be stupid," said Harry. "I know they're your family, but the three of us are our own family too, and there are some things we shouldn't have to tell anyone."

Ron hung his head and mumbled his thanks as his ears burned bright red.

"Forget about it," said Harry. "That was a long time ago and none of it matters anymore. Seriously, Ron."

Ron gave Harry a half-smile and then turned his attention to Hermione. "You didn't have to go along with it either," he said, "but I appreciate it."

Hermione's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but she squeezed Ron's hand nonetheless. "Harry's right, Ron. There are certain things only the three of us need to know. Now come on, let's go eat."

* * *

Harry wasn't sure where the time went. All he knew was that before he even realized it, the sun had set on his last day at Hogwarts, and next morning he found himself standing in a crooked lane on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"Looks the same, doesn't it?" said Ron, staring up at the tall structure of the Burrow in the distance.

"Same as always," said Hermione, and there was a definite note of affection in her voice.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

In silence they began to walk in the direction of the Weasley's home. The late-morning sunshine beat down upon their necks. Harry glanced sideways at Ginny and noticed the apprehensive look on her face; he reached for her hand and took it in his own.

They walked on, Ron in the lead, and finally stopped when they reached the Burrow's front yard. Harry noticed that the house had retreated back into its previous state, the way it had been before the wedding. Everything looked perfectly normal, from the Wellington boots to the cluster of chickens. The house didn't seem to realize that anything significant had happened to its inhabitants. It made Harry sick.

Ron appeared to be feeling the same way. His face paled as he stared through the window of his house. Hermione watched him anxiously. "Go on," she said gently. "It will be okay."

Ron nodded and walked to the door, then opened it and entered cautiously.

Harry had expected the usual welcoming shriek from Mrs. Weasley; he had automatically softened his hearing so that her high-pitched words of delight wouldn't hurt his ears. What he was not prepared for was the dreadful silence that permeated the kitchen and the den.

"Hello?" Ron asked, breaking the quiet.

No answer.

"Mum?" Ginny called. "Dad?"

"They must not be back from Muriel's yet," Ron said when no one answered again. "But I thought some of the others might be here already."

And then Harry could hear the soft footfalls of a person entering the kitchen. He, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked around as Percy appeared in the doorway, looking wholly unsurprised to see them.

"Hi," he said softly. "Did you just get here?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Where are Mum and Dad? Still at Muriel's?"

Percy blinked and shuffled uncomfortably. "No, they finished up there about an hour ago."

"Okay..." said Ron, wondering why Percy was being so coy. "So then where are they?"

"They went out."

"Why?" asked Ginny.

Percy avoided their gaze as he answered. "They had to go choose a coffin," he replied quietly.

Harry wasn't prepared for the lump that rose in his throat. _They had to choose a coffin_, he repeated in his mind. _Because their son died. Because Fred is really gone forever, and he has to go in the ground, just like my parents…_

Hermione had tears in her eyes, Ron was staring determinedly at a spot on the floor, and Ginny's stony-faced expression did not cover the anguished look on her face.

"George went with them," Percy continued. "He says—he says Mum and Dad would choose one that's too boring. He says Fred needs to be sent off in style."

Ron looked up, and a half-smile crossed his features. It was enough to break the tension, and they all sat down at the kitchen table, Percy included, and did their best to console each other.

The next few days were the worst Harry had ever spent at the Burrow. He couldn't remember ever having felt more miserable. The weird thing about it was that at times, he would forget the present circumstances, and he and Ron would lapse back into one of their familiar jokes. Then they would both suddenly remember themselves and Harry would feel guilty for having forgotten about Fred.

Mrs. Weasley was a shell of her old self. She went about with her usual cooking and cleaning and nagging, but her daily activities were punctuated by long breaks in which she would retreat to her room and come out hours later with swollen eyes and a vacant expression on her face. Mr. Weasley didn't ask Harry or Hermione anything about Muggles; he looked like he hadn't slept for days. George, for his part, was hardly seen at all. He spent all of his time shut up in his old room, which was unusual in itself because he had his own flat in London, and Harry saw him only once during his first three days at the Burrow.

Many different people seemed to drift in and out of the Burrow, coming to comfort the Weasley family and express their condolences. Ron always insisted that they go outside when people came over; he had no desire to be told "I'm so sorry" over and over again. Mrs. Weasley was very gracious to everyone who visited, but Harry could tell that they weren't helping matters. Of everyone who came to call, only Amos Diggory seemed to soothe Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's troubles, and that was only in the slightest bit.

The day of Fred's funeral dawned bright and beautiful. It seemed completely rude and ludicrous to Harry, who rather felt that the weather should have been storming, raining, hurricaning at the very least. And yet the sun shone high over the trees and the air was warm. It was exactly the type of weather they had had on the day of Dumbledore's funeral.

Harry and Ron washed and dressed in silence. Harry couldn't think of anything to say to his best friend; he tried to communicate with reassuring pats on the back instead.

"Is this real, Harry?" Ron asked at one point as they were pulling on black dress robes.

Harry took a minute to respond. He thought about how he'd felt when Sirius had died, when Dumbledore had died, when Lupin had died. He thought about his parents and about death in general.

"Yeah, it's real," he said finally. "But all that stuff I told you about the Resurrection Stone and about meeting Dumbledore in King's Cross—that kind of stuff—that's real, too."

It was a roundabout way of reassurance, but Ron seemed to accept it. He nodded and the two of them left the room.

Hermione was waiting for them when they reached the second landing. She took Ron's hand as soon as he reached her, and together the three of them walked out into the yard and assembled for the funeral.

The little man who had presided over Bill and Fleur's wedding was present again, standing up there at the podium. Harry tried hard to listen to him but he was distracted by Mrs. Weasley's sobs, Ginny's silent crying on his right, and Ron's ragged breathing on his left. He couldn't help but let his own memories of Fred float back to him as he sat there under the scorching sun, surrounded by Weasleys. Idly he wondered what Dumbledore would have thought about Fred's death.

Almost involuntarily he saw Dumbledore's face in his mind and heard the man's voice in his head. "_I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley are responsible for trying to send you a Hogwarts toilet seat…"_

Dumbledore had certainly understood Fred's humor. Harry entertained an image in his head—one in which Dumbledore and Fred were talking in King's Cross—wait, no, King's Cross had been Harry's "party," and certainly Fred's would be in the Gryffindor Common Room or something—and Fred was sitting there, shaking his head at all of them, and Dumbledore was reassuring Fred that his family would be alright….

A loud sniff from Ron jolted Harry back to his senses. He blinked and looked around. He could see, he could feel, the presence of all the Hogwarts students around him. Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood and Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, Neville and Luna and Seamus and Dean, nearly all of the members of Dumbledore's Army had turned up to celebrate Fred's life.

And Hagrid was there, and so were McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Kingsley and Aberforth Dumbledore, and, astonishingly enough, so was Ludo Bagman, who was sitting quite silently with a pained look on his face.

But Harry knew that the person Fred would have cared about most was George. George sat several seats down from Harry, in the middle of the front row, and he had an inscrutable expression on his face. It was almost as if he didn't know what to say or to think if he didn't have his twin there to talk and think with him.

_You'll be alright, George_, Harry thought. Then he dwelled once again on all the people he had lost, and he felt that they owed him something. _Take care of him_, he pleaded silently, focusing his thoughts on his mother and father, on Sirius and Lupin and Tonks and Dumbledore, and especially on Fred. _I'm okay now…take care of George._

And suddenly the service seemed to be over, because all around him people were getting to their feet. Harry jerked his thoughts back to his present reality and got up too.

* * *

_This is really bloody ridiculous_, she thought. What was the point of setting out food at a funeral? Who in their right mind felt that it would be a good thing to let people wander around and stuff their faces after paying their respects? Was that honestly all that respectful?

Then again, it seemed to be helping Ron.

"Chocolate Frogs!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "Excellent, haven't had one in a while. Fred would have liked this."

"Actually, I think he might have hit you for enjoying the food so much when you should be focusing on him," said Hermione.

Ron shrugged. "Like I've really been thinking about anything else."

They wandered over to a spare corner of the yard and sat down in some white chairs. Hermione hadn't touched the food, but Ron had loaded up his plate.

"Are you honestly okay?" Hermione asked him.

"I'm as good as I could be, all things considered," he replied. "Why?"

"Because you're eating so much! A lot of times you'll eat a whole lot if you're upset about something."

Ron looked at her incredulously. "_Hermione_," he said, "I _always_ eat this much."

She let out a small laugh. "This is true."

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Ron munched on his food. They were both staring around the yard at the hushed mourners, watching the people who were trying to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. George had disappeared right after the funeral, and Lee Jordan wasn't anywhere in sight either.

"I really miss him, Hermione," Ron said suddenly.

Hermione reached for his hand. "I know you do. I feel it, too. There's all this emptiness and it just doesn't seem right because Fred always had the ability to fill a room with happiness and laughter."

Ron nodded. Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched the gathering tears in his eyes. "I don't even understand what I'm feeling," Ron told her quietly. "Now that he's gone all I can think about is that I should have had more laughs with him, I shouldn't have been so resentful sometimes. All the stuff he did when we were kids—turning my teddy bear into a spider, charming my fingernails so that they had pink polish on them—well, before it was okay to call him a git for that stuff, and now it's like—it's like I'd give anything for him to give me pink fingernails again."

Hermione cupped his face. "He'd want you to remember that stuff. Do you honestly think he'd prefer for you to remember him as a perfect little angel?"

Ron laughed. "You're right," he said, wiping his eyes. Then he paused. "My heart just hurts a lot right now," he mumbled.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Hey, listen. It's not always going to be like this."

He looked at her desperately. "I feel like it is."

"It's not," she assured him. "Look, right now everything is horrible, I know. Fred just died, and Lupin and Tonks are dead, and it seems like the world has ended—"

"Yeah, it does seem like that—"

"But that's not regular life, Ron. It hurts right now, but our happiness will come. _It will come_, okay? It's just going to take a little while."

"I feel like there isn't anything to be happy about."

"Can you honestly think that?" Hermione asked him. "Can you honestly say something like that when your best friend just defeated Voldemort for good, and said best friend has a godson whom we get to help raise?"

Ron half-shrugged in response.

"Besides," she continued, "we have another thing to be happy about. My greatest happiness is that you are alive and you're with me here now, and I'd be kidding myself if I said otherwise."

For the first time, a serene smile made its way onto Ron's face. "You're right," he said in a low voice. "If there's one person I absolutely _needed_ to survive this, it's you." He placed his hand affectionately on the side of her face, looking her straight on in the eye.

She leaned into his hand. "And I did survive, and better still, I've finally admitted that I'm in love with you, haven't I?"

"Oh, stop getting all cheesy on me," said Ron. "Fred would barf if he heard all of this—"

But Hermione just giggled and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "I think he'd like it—it would give him one more reason to make fun of you."

Ron laughed. "See, this is why I keep you around, Hermione. You cheer me up when I'm sad."

"Yeah? Even though you think I'm mental?"

"Well, I reckon everyone's a bit mental in their own way…" said Ron. "You just take it to the next level, what with your habit of setting canaries on people and the like."

She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him, in her teasing sort of way, to try and argue that he hadn't deserved the canaries.

Ron seemed to have realized his idiocy. He smiled in that very cute Ron kind of way, the way he indicated that he was wrong but that he was aware of it and that hopefully she would see this as endearing. Hermione was all too used to that smile.

"Look, for what it's worth," said Ron, "I _like_ mental." And he tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a quick kiss.

Hermione had thought they were being discreet, so she was altogether very surprised when she noticed Mrs. Weasley watching them over the shoulder of a guest. The look on Molly's face was hard to read: Hermione hadn't seen her look happy in a very long time, and yet—

BANG.

Hermione tore her eyes away from Mrs. Weasley's face, looking around for the source of that loud noise. She and Ron seemed to realize it at the same time and they both let out soft sighs of delight and fulfillment.

BANG. CRACK.

There were fireworks filling the air; fireworks of all shapes and sizes, of every color imaginable. They illuminated the sky, even with the sun reigning down upon them, and most of them were bright red and fiery, like the trademark Weasley hair.

And there were George and Lee, crouched in the grass in an isolated part of the garden, gazing up at the fireworks with glee etched all over their faces, taking it in turns to set off more. Hermione tapped Ron on the shoulder and directed his attention to the two boys too, and as his eyes trained on his brother and his brother's friend, Ron grinned.

"We should have known," he said.

They were celebrating Fred, celebrating his life the way Fred would have wanted it to be celebrated, and for minutes that stretched into hours all of the Burrow's inhabitants and their guests stood staring at the fireworks, mesmerized by the display. They all watched as Catherine wheels went spinning, dragons danced across the sky, and Gryffindor lions roared and sparkled. There was one firework that shot high into the air, then exploded into the shapes of two beater's bats and two bludgers that engaged in an animated, sparkly game of Quidditch. There was another firework that went off with a bang and zoomed all around the garden, quoting Mrs. Weasley and some of the funnier scoldings she had given the twins. People couldn't help but laugh, Mrs. Weasley included.

The final firework shot into the air in a blaze of bright orange, and they all stared breathlessly as it assumed the image of Fred's face, which winked down at them all with a jovial expression. Three words formed beneath the image: _Keep On Laughing_.

And they all smiled, and they all laughed, and Ron and Hermione beamed as the shouts and cheers of people rose into the air all around the Burrow, celebrating a person who was truly worth remembering.


	3. Feud of the Five Year Olds

**Author's Note**: Thank you again for all of the beautiful reviews! A good number of you told me that the last chapter made you cry. All I can say is...wow. I didn't realize I had that kind of pull! Pretty neat. Anyway, here is chapter 3. Enjoy!

* * *

"Do you want to keep this shepherd's pie, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley looked around as she was magicking some plates to wash themselves. "What's that? Oh yes, yes, Minerva, thank you…."

"Mum?" came Ginny's voice from the backdoor. "Mum, Kingsley's about to leave, he's wondering where you've got to."

"Tell him I'll be right out, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley.

It was almost nine o'clock on the night of Fred's funeral. The grief which had hung so heavily earlier that day had subsided somewhat, in part due to George's superb fireworks display, and now the general feeling at the Burrow was one of tiredness.

Hermione was helping to sort out all of the leftover food. It was incredible how many people had brought some kind of dish to the service. Professor McGonagall was organizing all of it very rapidly and efficiently; Hermione found it very strange to see her old teacher in the Burrow's kitchen, carrying out domestic chores. No wonder the boys had insisted on staying outside and cleaning up the garden.

"What is this concoction?" Auntie Muriel wheezed. She was sitting at the kitchen table and peering at all of the dishes around her. "This looks disgusting. Here, Herma, or whatever your name is—bin this one."

Hermione sighed and took the plate of mashed potatoes out of Muriel's reach. Turning her back on the crazy old woman, she handed the plate to Neville's grandmother instead, who took it with a significant look which indicated she did not plan on trashing her own mashed potatoes.

"_Hermione_," said Professor McGonagall, emphasizing her name so that Muriel would hear it, "would you mind going to find Harry for me? I need to speak to him."

"Yes, of course," said Hermione, eager to escape the kitchen full of old women. She suspected that McGonagall knew this and hurried outside without a backward glance.

"Harry," she said, striding over to him, "McGonagall wants to talk to you."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Perhaps to award you some House points for saving the world?" she suggested. "I have no clue."

Harry frowned and headed for the kitchen. Hermione turned to Ron.

"Almost finished out here?"

"Yeah," he said. "Actually, the guys are all planning to go play a game of night Quidditch once we're all cleaned up, but don't tell Mum."

"The guys?"

"Yeah—Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Lee are still here; we're gonna play a bit with Charlie and George. And Percy keeps hinting that he wants to play, too. It's kind of freaking me out."

Hermione laughed. "I can imagine."

She helped him finish up his work in the garden. Within minutes, Harry reappeared, looking incredibly surprised but pleased about something.

"Guess what?" he said.

"What?" Ron and Hermione asked in unison.

"McGonagall's just given me Dumbledore's Pensieve."

"Blimey!" said Ron.

"You're joking!" said Hermione.

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. She says she won't need it as Headmistress, and Dumbledore always hinted that he wanted it passed on to me."

"Wow, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"What are you going to do with it?" asked Ron.

"Well I've already got one idea," said Harry without hesitation. "I want everyone to put in some memories of Lupin and Tonks, that way I can show them to Teddy when he's older."

"But that's a brilliant idea!" Hermione said.

Ron nodded vigorously, obviously impressed. Harry looked very pleased. "Well, you know, I figure it's my duty as godfather," he said.

"Teddy will really love that one day," Hermione told him.

"Definitely," said Ron. "So, Harry, want to go start that game of Quidditch?" he asked in a low voice.

Harry nodded and he and Ron left quickly to go find all of the other boys. Hermione watched as they hurried across the garden, keen not to be seen by Ron's mother. When she could no longer discern their figures in the dark, she headed back inside.

The kitchen was now deserted. Hermione stared around at it, not sure what to do with herself. She was in one of those moods where she didn't feel much like doing anything. She simply stood there for a minute or two, idly listening to the sound of the crickets in the garden.

The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying something. "Oh! Hermione, dear, I didn't see you."

"Sorry," said Hermione. "What have you got there?"

Mrs. Weasley looked down at the object in her hands, then turned it around so Hermione could see. It was the old clock that showed where each of the Weasley family members were and what they were doing.

"I got in the habit of carrying it around with me when we were staying at Muriel's," Mrs. Weasley explained with a sad smile. "That's where I left it when Arthur and I headed to Hogwarts for the battle. And then when I brought it back here, I found it had done the most extraordinary thing."

She directed Hermione's attention to the face of the clock. It took a few moments for Hermione to realize what Mrs. Weasley was referring to, but when she did, she almost sobbed out loud. The hand with Fred's name on it was missing, but when Hermione looked closer, she saw that it had actually multiplied and there were now 8 thin hands that said "Fred," each of them attached in turn to the hands that read Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny.

"You see?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "I couldn't figure out what had happened at first, because all of the other hands were so much thicker than usual. And then I realized that his hand had replicated and joined each of our hands, so that it added an extra layer."

Hermione smiled through her tears, her eyes still focused on the clock. Then she noticed something else.

"Mrs. Weasley!" she said. "My name is on here!"

It was Mrs. Weasley's turn to smile through her tears.

"And there's Harry's name as well!" Hermione said, still completely flabbergasted. Fleur's name, too, had joined the clock, but Hermione wasn't surprised by that: she was, after all, Bill's wife. Harry and Hermione, however, were not technically members of the family….

"Hermione, dear," said Mrs. Weasley softly, "are you dating Ron?"

Hermione tore her eyes away from the clock and looked at Mrs. Weasley. She had not been expecting _that_ question at all.

"Oh," said Hermione. She could feel her cheeks burning. "Um…well, yes, I think so."

There was no mistaking it this time: Mrs. Weasley was beaming. She set the clock down gently and gathered Hermione in her arms like a daughter, sniffling a little bit and patting Hermione's hair.

"That makes me so happy," said Mrs. Weasley, still squeezing Hermione tightly. "So very happy. I've been hoping this would happen for quite a while now."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say; feeling completely bemused, she laughed gently, hugging Mrs. Weasley back. Finally the older woman pulled away.

"Ron's always been a good boy," she told Hermione. "He doubts himself, no matter what I tell him, but I always knew how special he was. And you've always known it too, haven't you?"

Hermione smiled shyly, blushing further still. "Yes, I have," she said finally.

Mrs. Weasley beamed some more. "What a thing to happen," she muttered softly.

Hermione nodded, but she still felt perplexed about the clock. "Mrs. Weasley," she began again, "when did you add mine and Harry's names to the clock?"

"After the wedding," Molly replied. "You three had disappeared, and Arthur and I were very worried about you—all three of you. We wanted a way to know that you and Harry were safe too, and then we realized we could add your hands to the clock, and I thought it had been rather silly of us not to add your names years ago."

"But…we're not blood," said Hermione, who felt completely unworthy to have her name on the Weasley family clock.

"Does that matter?" asked Molly. "You're still part of the family."

Hermione could think of no reply to this statement, so she took the clock off the counter and studied it. Her hand, which looked newer and cleaner than the others, was currently pointing to "home." She felt tears in her eyes as she looked at it. "I'm really touched, Mrs. Weasley," she said quietly.

"Don't be silly, dear. We've always considered you one of us. Now, why don't you go find those boys and have yourself a good time," she said, patting Hermione's cheek.

Hermione gave her a watery smile. "Okay."

"And tell Ron I want to talk to him later," said Molly. "I'm just bursting to offer him my congratulations."

* * *

The next week passed by in a haze. Lupin and Tonks' funeral was held two days after Fred's, and by the end of it, Hermione felt like she had completely drained her supply of tears. It was very hard to see Andromeda sitting there with baby Teddy, who cried and changed his hair color throughout the whole service, unaware that his parents were being interned. The only thing that comforted Hermione was when she reminded herself that Lupin had appeared in the forest to Harry after his death, so his soul was still alive and well somewhere. Harry had told them Lupin's words about wanting to make a better world for his son, and though it tore her heart up to think about the sadness of it all, she was at least reassured that Teddy _would_ grow up in a safer world, just as Remus had wished.

Harry, for his part, was entirely focused on collecting memories for Teddy. He had taken to handing out vials to people, then labeling the vials once they were full of memories. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny helped him because they were grateful for something to do and because it eased their own grief for Lupin and Tonks.

"We should take a look at some of these later," said Ron as they sat in the living room of the Burrow with a whole bunch of vials laid out on the carpet before them. "I'd love to see Tonks as a teenager."

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, I'll bet she was crazy."

"Oh, that reminds me," said Harry. "I need to add that one from when I first met her. She and Mad-Eye had a funny conversation about people losing their buttocks due to misfiring wands."

His three companions barely had time to look confused before there was a sudden tap on the window. The four of them looked up to see an owl pecking on the glass, a letter in its beak. Ginny got up and opened the window, taking the envelope from the owl.

"It's addressed to you, Hermione," she said, looking at the envelope with interest.

Hermione got up and crossed the room, taking the letter from Ginny. She stared at the handwriting, which she recognized as belonging to Viktor Krum.

"Aren't you going to open it?" asked Ron from his spot on the floor.

"No, I'll read it later," Hermione replied.

"Why? Who's it from?"

"I don't know," she lied. "I'll look after we finish up here."

"You do too know," said Ron. "Who's it from?"

She sighed and tore open the envelope, pulling out the letter within. "It's from Viktor," she said nonchalantly.

"_Krum_? Why is _he_ writing to you?"

"Probably wants to make sure I'm alive or something," Hermione responded. "I don't know, I'll read it later."

Ron looked at her darkly. "After all this time you're _still_ writing to Vicky?"

"I didn't write to him, he wrote to _me_," she said impatiently.

"Drop it, Ron, he probably just wants to check on her," said Ginny.

"Hey, here's an idea, Ginny," said Ron loudly, "how about you side with your brother for once?"

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Hermione cut her off. "Side? Who said anything about sides?" she asked angrily. "It's just a stupid letter!"

"Fine, let me read it then," said Ron.

"No!" said Hermione.

"Why not? If it's just a stupid letter, why can't I read it?"

"Because it's addressed to me!" Hermione said indignantly.

"Yeah, and I'll bet I know what it says," Ron growled. "I saw how he was at the wedding last year. He's obviously still into you. Probably wants to get back together with you, now that you're all famous and everything."

"You're famous too, idiot!"

"Don't call me an idiot!"

"Stop acting like one, then!"

"Only if you stop acting all secretive about Vicky!"

"Why in the name of Merlin are you freaking out about this?" Hermione shouted. "After everything we've been through this year, you're still going to go and get jealous over a guy I dated _ages_ ago?!"

"Yeah, maybe I am!" Ron yelled back. "Because I figured that, oh I don't know, since we've now _kissed_ and we're dating and everything, he wouldn't be competition anymore!"

"He isn't competition!" came Hermione's shrill yell. "You're just overreacting!"

"Overreacting my arse," Ron said coolly.

"Like you're so innocent," Hermione said in a dangerously low voice. "You and _Lav-Lav_, snogging in front of me every effing chance you got—"

"Oh, don't try and use that against me again," Ron said in a superior tone. "We worked through all of that already!"

"Yes, we did, and I thought we had worked through all of this Viktor business as well, but _no_, little Won-Won is still going to act like a _five_ year-old about it…."

"I'll stop acting like a five year-old when you stop corresponding with that _git_," said Ron. "I think you forget, Hermione, that the whole thing with Lavender lasted only a few months, but you've been pulling this Viktor shit on me for four years now!"

The glare Hermione bestowed upon him then was deadly. "You want to talk about _shit_, Ron?" she asked in an icy tone. "_You're_ a piece of shit. How's that." And she turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, angry tears dancing in her eyes.

Ron looked as if she had smacked him. He stared at her retreating back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Ginny and Harry sat motionless on the floor, not sure what to do. After a moment, Ron turned around and looked at them.

"Don't—say—anything," he growled. Then he marched into the kitchen, opened the back door, and stomped out into the garden, slamming the door behind him.

Ginny turned to Harry, looking completely shocked. "That was the worst one I've seen yet."

Harry raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"You don't think so?" Ginny asked him incredulously.

"No, it was pretty bad," Harry conceded. "I've definitely never heard Hermione swear so much in such a short period of time."

Ginny chuckled a little bit but then hastily sighed. "I should probably go talk to her."

"Are you mental?" Harry asked. "She'll just yell at you, too!"

"Yeah, I know," said Ginny. "She usually does. I'm used to it, though. Besides, I think it's good for her. Gets out the rest of her anger."

Harry smiled at Ginny. "If you say so."

"I do say so," said Ginny. "Maybe you should go talk to Ron."

"I'm not making any promises."

"Go on. It'll help him."

Harry let out a heavy sigh. "Alright then. Just don't expect it to work. You know I'm no good at the whole feelings business."

"Well, you do the best you can," Ginny said, giving him a quick kiss. "See you in a bit."

Then she too left the room, leaving Harry feeling completely bewildered at the prospect of talking to Ron about Hermione.

* * *

I know, I know, you thought we were past all of the jealousy crap—and what a bad time to drag it out again, after Molly had just told Hermione how happy she was for them. But bear with me, I have a good reason for bringing it up again. Besides, I have to admit, I got a kind of sadistic pleasure out of Hermione calling Ron a piece of shit. Is that completely awful? I just love it when Hermione swears though.

I also have to say that I really enjoyed writing the few lines with Auntie Muriel in them; for some reason it absolutely tickled my funny bone to have Muriel call Hermione "Herma." And, on another note, I know it's the common thing now to have Harry & Hermione added to the Weasley clock (I believe the first fic where I read this was one by Melindaleo), but I couldn't resist adding my own interpretation.


	4. I Have Seen Your Heart

Ginny stood outside the door of her bedroom, listening for signs of movement before she opened it. Sure enough, she heard Hermione pacing back and forth, muttering angrily under her breath. Ginny sighed, placed her hand on the doorknob, and turned it.

Hermione looked up when she opened the door. "I don't want to talk to you, Ginny," she said resolutely.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Who said I was here to talk to _you_? It's my room, remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't bother to call Ginny's bluff. Instead she opened her mouth to voice some of her anger. "Your brother is the biggest prat I know," she said.

Ginny sighed and flopped down on her bed. "If I had a Sickle for every time you said that…."

"Well it's true!" said Hermione. "Seriously, Ginny, how many times have we had this Viktor problem?"

"Hermione," said Ginny, sitting up to look at her friend, "how do you feel about the fact that Ron dated Lavender?"

Hermione frowned, confused. "I hate it," she said in a small voice.

"Well there you go," Ginny explained. "That's how Ron feels about you and Viktor."

"Please, that's not a good analogy."

"Oh come on," Ginny said impatiently. "How would you feel if he got a letter from Lavender today?"

Hermione looked as if she was going to speak, then thought better of it. All of a sudden her anger act completely evaporated, and Ginny was startled when Hermione collapsed on the bed next to her, looking completely forlorn.

"Woah," said Ginny. "Are you okay?"

Hermione didn't answer right away. Her eyes were staring unfocused at a spot across the room. "You know, Gin," she said quietly, "I just wish we could fix the past once and for all. Just put it to rest so we can just _be_ together without all the bruises from yesteryear coming out all the time."

Ginny's stubborn act disappeared then too. She gazed at Hermione's sad face and tried to come up with something to say.

Hermione finally stopped staring at the wall and focused her eyes on Ginny instead, looking expectant.

"I think the bruises will fade in time," Ginny said finally.

Hermione smiled humorlessly.

"Hermione, can you honestly look at you and Ron and think you _won't_ ultimately be together?" Ginny asked. "Is your history _really_ going to be that much of a problem, in the long run?"

Hermione considered. "No," she admitted. "At least, I hope not."

"You see," said Ginny triumphantly, "it will all be fine."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose."

"Really, Hermione, it will be."

Hermione finally cracked a smile. "It's nice to have you back to console me again."

Ginny smiled too. "I'm sure it wasn't easy traveling around with those boys all year."

"Ha, that's for sure. I've got loads of good stories for you still. Many of them involving how awkward Harry is."

Ginny laughed. "How so?"

Hermione considered. "Well, for starters, I think there were—three?—no, four instances when he came across my box of tampons in the beaded bag…the poor boy jumped back like he was scalded, every single time, then hurried away from me. I think he thought I was going to yell at him."

Ginny laughed hysterically. "And did you?"

"Of course not. I was laughing too much."

Ginny continued to giggle for quite some time. "Oh, Harry…"

* * *

"What, Harry?" said Ron. "I'm not in the mood for company."

"Yeah, well, you never are in times like these, but then you usually do something stupid, so I figure it's better if I stay here for a bit."

Ron scowled but didn't say anything. Harry sat next to him beneath the broom shed, waiting for him to speak. He knew it wouldn't take long.

"What is it with girls always acting like they're right?" Ron asked finally.

Harry considered. "Well, they usually are. Or at least, that's what we're supposed to think."

"Bloody women. They can't ever give you a break."

"Actually, mate, I think she's given you like, 15 breaks."

Ron looked at Harry in annoyance. "Are you here to help or to be a pain?"

Harry grinned. "Well, I have to admit, it's more fun to be a pain."

Ron shook his head and looked away.

"Snap out of it," Harry said, "you've had worse problems."

"Like?"

"Oh, I dunno, like that time you were dating Lavender but were actually in love with Hermione and you couldn't figure out how to get out of it?"

Ron sighed. "I keep messing up, Harry."

"Yeah, well, they expect that from us," said Harry.

Ron still looked glum. Harry decided to give up the humor approach.

"Look, Ron, not to get all sugary or anything, but I see how you feel about Hermione, and I see how she feels about you, so I think maybe you should just apologize and get on with it."

"Can't," Ron grunted.

"Why not?"

Ron sighed in frustration. "Because this Krum thing is going to continue to bug me."

"Is it really just the Krum thing or is it something else?" Harry probed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…are you sure there aren't…more things bugging you? Other than that?"

Ron shifted his position on the ground. He was clearly uncomfortable. "You're referring to the Horcrux incident, aren't you."

Harry looked apologetic. "Yeah, it's kind of what I was getting at."

Ron fidgeted, apparently embarrassed.

"Look," Harry continued, "I never realized half the stuff you were thinking until that—_thing_—voiced it. It made it easier for me to understand why you left and why you worry about her so much. Maybe Hermione just needs to be filled in on that, too. Maybe that will help her see how you're thinking most of the time."

"I dunno, Harry. I'm not sure it matters."

"Okay, we both know Hermione is kind of a nut case in terms of how _she_ thinks sometimes…this is just one of those things that I can see her getting angry about. Can't you just see her saying, '_Honestly, Harry, you could have told me about that, how was I supposed to know how Ron was feeling?'_"

Ron snorted. "I think you hit the nail on the head, mate."

Harry shrugged. "So explain it to her."

"How do I explain something like _that_? 'Oh yeah, by the way, Hermione, that one day in the forest, a piece of Voldemort's soul came to life and said some mean things to me…let me recount them for you, 'cause it might help you make sense of my poor tortured soul….'"

Harry laughed. Then he had an idea. "Wait, Ron, there is something else you could do…."

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione found herself knocking on the familiar bedroom door; the faded plaque that read _Ronald's Room _was still hanging pathetically, and the ghoul in the attic could still be heard making loud noises.

She heard his footsteps coming closer, then, before she was even ready, she found herself face to face with him.

"You got the note," he said simply.

She tried to maintain a fierce look as the words from the parchment flashed across her mind: _Hermione, I'm sorry,_ _I have a lot of explaining to do, please come meet me in my room…. _

"Mmhmm," she muttered, hoping her tone conveyed the fact that she was still incredibly angry with him, and that she was here against her better judgment.

He held the door wide open so that she could enter the room. She did so, marching with her arms crossed over her chest, searching the room for a sign of how he intended to apologize.

Then she saw the Pensieve.

Immediately she became mesmerized by the beautiful colors swirling around the surface, the way it cast pools of light on the walls, the feeling that arose in her chest as she stepped closer to it, like she was encountering ancient magic.

"Harry taught me how to use it this afternoon," Ron explained.

Hermione merely nodded; she was unable to tear her eyes away from the basin.

"Hermione."

She turned around to face him, forgetting that she was supposed to be mad at him.

Ron looked sheepish. "I'm sorry," he said feebly.

"Haven't heard that one before," she replied acidly.

His eyes flashed dangerously, but he maintained his composure. "I want to show you some things."

Hermione regarded him disdainfully. "Why."

He was getting impatient with her arrogance, she could tell, but he answered the question anyway. "I think it might…explain some stuff."

"I should hope so."

Ron looked like he was reconsidering showing her anything, but then he stepped closer to her.

"Follow me?" he said coolly, holding out his hand to her.

She really wanted to say no, just for the express purpose of angering him. But curiosity got the better of her.

"Fine," she said, grabbing his hand with as much contempt as possible.

Ron held his wand up to his temple, closed his eyes for a minute, and then dragged away two long, fluid, intertwined memories. Hermione was surprised: she had read that memories were usually a whitish gas color, but these looked—there was no other word for it—poisonous.

Ron deposited the memories in the Pensieve and watched them swirl on the surface for a moment.

"Ready?" he asked.

Before she could answer, he bent his head forward and fell into the Pensieve, pulling her along behind him.

They tumbled through the air fast; Hermione had her eyes shut tight; she was feeling dizzy. Then, without warning, their feet hit solid ground.

Hermione opened her eyes. They were in a place that was quite familiar to both of them. It was one of the many halls of Hogwarts, and even before Hermione could orient herself, she felt an instant peace, like she was home again.

A somewhat younger Ron and Harry came around the corner. Hermione watched as they walked along the hallway, no doubt on their way back from Quidditch practice, as they were both carrying broomsticks. Pensieve Ron and Harry came upon a tapestry and moved it aside to pass through, but someone was there.

With a shock, Hermione realized it was Ginny, standing there snogging Dean Thomas.

"Oi!" Pensieve Ron shouted. Hermione watched as he and Ginny exchanged their normal sibling banter, arguing about whether Ginny's behavior was appropriate. Hermione chanced a half-glance at the real Ron; he was watching the scene warily, apparently waiting for something.

"_Harry's snogged_ _Cho Chang!_" Ginny shouted. "_Hermione's snogged_ _Viktor Krum!_ _It's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a five year old!_" The words settled heavily on the air. Hermione blushed in spite of herself. Pensieve Ron looked like he'd been slapped in the face. The real Ron did, too.

More harsh words were exchanged. Hermione wasn't really listening; she was just studying Pensieve Ron's face and tense posture. Then the Ron next to her grabbed her hand, tugged on it, and suddenly she found herself falling through the air again.

A few seconds later she felt earth beneath her feet. She looked around, disoriented. They were in a forest, but no one else was there. All she saw was a small pool of water some ways away.

"Ron, what—?"

"Shhh, look." His eyes were focused sharply on the pool of water, and he nodded in its direction. She too trained her eyes on the pool, and all of a sudden the surface of the water broke, startling her.

Ron's body was discernable first. She watched as Pensieve Ron pulled Pensieve Harry's body to the surface, then as Ron pulled himself and Harry out of the water.

"Are—you—_mental_?" Pensieve Ron asked Pensieve Harry after a few moments.

Hermione watched the scene in fascination: this had to be the day Ron came back, saved Harry's life, and destroyed the locket Horcrux. The two boys exchanged dialogue, but it was nothing intriguing; Hermione already knew everything they were discussing. The Ron next to her was watching the scene apprehensively and drumming his fingers on his thigh anxiously.

Finally they got to the exciting part. Hermione watched as Harry opened the locket Horcrux and moved aside so Ron could destroy it.

But then, unexpectedly, a voice hissed from the Horcrux.

"_I have seen your heart, and it is mine_." The voice was high-pitched, other-worldly, and somehow made Hermione feel a physical pain. She stepped backwards; the real Ron regarded her warily.

Harry yelled something, but the voice continued to speak: "_I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible….Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter…Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend…Second best, always, eternally overshadowed…_"

Then Hermione watched, horrified, as two human forms rose out of the locket. She recognized one of them as herself, but she was strange looking, almost devilish. And beside her stood Harry, looking equally grotesque, inhuman. The Riddle Harry spoke to Ron, taunting him that he should not have returned—and then the Riddle echo of herself spoke as well.

"_Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"_

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. Pensieve Harry was yelling, asking Ron to destroy the locket, but all Hermione could focus on were Ron's eyes—how the warmth had gone out of them, how he looked like he was being tormented beyond his imagination, beyond any kind of pain….

The real Ron watched this scene with an overwhelming sense of nausea. His stomach clenched as he watched Harry, and the Pensieve version of himself, and the Riddle Harry and Hermione. And the real Hermione was standing next to him, her eyes wide with terror—

"_Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,_" the Riddle Hermione crooned. Ron felt the familiar sting in his eyes, the burning feeling in his esophagus, as Riddle Hermione wrapped herself around Riddle Harry and kissed him. Ron turned to look at the real Hermione beside him. She looked sick with herself; there were tears making their way down her face. Ron looked back at the scene, at the figure of himself standing pathetically with the sword. Then in a flash, his Pensieve self had raised the sword and stabbed the locket fiercely.

Now Ron and Hermione watched as Pensieve Harry and Ron knelt on the ground; Pensieve Ron was clearly crying, and Harry was speaking to him.

"After you left, she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…" Harry faltered. Then he continued. "She's like my sister. I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew."

Pensieve Ron dried his eyes and wiped his nose; the real Ron mirrored his actions. The real Hermione was standing motionless, not bothering to wipe her own tears.

They watched as Ron apologized and as he and Harry hugged. Then the real Ron turned away from the scene, grabbed Hermione's hand, and pulled her into darkness again—

A minute later, they landed on the floor of Ron's bedroom in the Burrow.

Hermione stood upright, processing everything. She could feel her tears, still wet, on her face.

Ron let go of her hand and stepped back so he could look her in the eye. "Does it make any sense now?" he asked desperately. "Any of it?"

Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before she spoke. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I tell you something like that? How can that be put into words?"

Hermione could find no answer to that question, so she asked one of her own. "The first memory—the one with Ginny. That was right before you started dating Lavender, wasn't it?"

Ron nodded. "Do you see now? The effect you have on me?"

Hermione waited for him to elaborate.

Ron sighed. "I started dating Lavender because I found out about you and Krum and it—kinda tore me up a bit."

Hermione knew this, of course, because Ginny had confessed all of it over a year ago when the Lavender fiasco happened. There was something about seeing it played out in front of her own eyes, though, that made it all the more raw to her. "I kissed Viktor _ages_ ago, Ron," she said quietly, "and there were only a few instances…."

Ron shrugged. "I didn't know that at the time. All I could think about was you and him together. It hurt me a lot, more than I could even admit to myself."

Silence settled over them for a few moments before Hermione spoke again.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"What about the second memory? Is that really how you felt?"

A shadow crossed Ron's face. "Yeah. Well, all that stuff that the Horcrux said had been eating away at me for some time. I know some of it was illogical, but it was just how I felt."

"Is that why you left?"

Ron hung his head in shame. "I left because I was a bloody coward. And I still am a bloody coward."

"What are you so afraid of?" Hermione asked.

Ron stared at her from beneath his red fringe. "Not being good enough. For you, for Harry, for my family, for anyone, really. I don't know why you ever forgave me for leaving. I still haven't forgiven myself."

Hermione stepped closer to him, touched his hand, and tugged him over to sit down on the bed next to her.

"I forgave you because I love you, and because first and foremost you're my friend," she said quietly. "And also because you came back, which took more courage than I can even imagine."

Ron shook his head. "The way my family treated you and Harry the other day...it made me realize how undeserving I am to be friends with you two. He was willing to give up his life to save everyone, and you underwent torture, and what have I done? Absolutely nothing."

"That's not true. You've carried around a burden for years, Ron. Please don't think I don't know it. You've been Harry's best friend since that first day on the train, and you took him into your loving family, which he needed so desperately, and no one ever gave you credit for anything. And you befriended me even though I was annoying and swotty and—"

"You were not," Ron interrupted.

"I _was_," said Hermione. "And being your friend changed me for the better. And during this hellish year we've just had, you were _there_. You were Harry's best friend. You saved me at Malfoy Manor. You're the heart of the three of us and you don't even realize it. Harry was right: most nights, during your absence, we didn't even talk to each other."

"Did you really cry for a week?" asked Ron.

"No," Hermione replied, "longer. I just didn't let Harry see."

Ron gave her a small smile. "So Harry was right then."

"Yes, he was," said Hermione. "He was also right about he and I loving each other in a brother-sister kind of way. He's my best friend, but I've never felt anything more for him than a platonic kind of affection. I love him deeply, but not in the way that I love you."

"I just don't get it. I've never felt good enough for you, Hermione."

"I don't see why, though," she replied. "You always have been."

Ron looked at her then like he never had before. She thought she recognized the sensation in his eyes. It was something like hope. Immense hope. He was pleading silently with her to continue.

"Ron," she said with an air of finality—with the intention of setting in it stone—"it's never been anyone but you. I've never seen you as second best, and I would never choose Harry over you. I don't know how I got so lucky as to have you, but please understand that I've never wanted anyone _but_ you, and I imagine I'll continue to feel like that forever."

There were tears welling in Ron's eyes, but he didn't bother to try to hide them from her. And all of a sudden, they were in each other's arms, holding each other tightly. Hermione pressed her face into Ron's chest and breathed in his scent. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Me too," he said quietly. "For everything. I've only ever wanted you, too."

"Then please, Ron, let's just let the past go. I know we've hurt each other a lot, but this is a new life we're making now, and I want to make it together."

"Okay," said Ron. "But if that's a marriage proposal, Hermione, I'm going to have to say no—I'm too young, I haven't even taken my NEWTs yet."

She laughed through her tears and hugged him tighter. "Shut up, Ron. Let's go to bed."

Ron raised his eyebrows at her. "What—in here?"

"Is that alright?" she asked.

"'Course," he said with his trademark grin. "And thank you for going into the Pensieve with me." He then surprised her by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her gently.

Hermione smiled against his mouth. "No problem. Can you lend me some clothes?"

He fished out some old pajama bottoms and a faded Cannons t-shirt. She turned away from him and he gave her her privacy while she changed; he tried to focus instead on dressing himself. When he turned back around, Hermione was watching him contentedly.

"Are you checking me out?" Ron asked.

She didn't answer, just continued to smile at him even more broadly. He took in the sight of her, standing there in pajama pants that were entirely too long for her, bushy hair framing her face.

"This is just like last time," Ron said.

"What?"

Ron grinned. "The last time we were in a fight. It was after I destroyed the locket, remember? I came back to the tent and you were in your pajamas."

Hermione beamed at him. "I remember. This time is a little different though."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You're not trying to pummel me this time."

She laughed appreciatively, took his hand, and pulled him over to the bed.

"Yep, definitely like last time," Ron said. "You're crawling into bed."

"Yeah, with you though," Hermione pointed out.

"That sounds dirty, Hermione."

"Don't make me hex you, Ron."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, tucking the bed sheets all around her. "This would be a bad time for canaries."

"Ha, ha. You really need to stop using that joke."

"I guess," he conceded, flopping on his back and yawning.

"Just so you know," said Hermione, turning on her side and propping herself up on her elbow to face him, "I read Viktor's letter, and he wrote to make sure not only that I was okay, but that you and Harry were doing well also."

Ron grinned. "That really makes me look like an arse, doesn't it?"

"Right in one."

"Again, I'm sorry for my tendency to be a git." He tucked several loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "Unfortunately it's a by-product of my being in love with you."

He expected a witty remark in reply, or at least some kind of half-reprimand from Hermione telling him that he couldn't weasel his way out of this by using cheesy lines. He wasn't expecting her to lean down and kiss him so intently that it made his stomach swoop.

"What was that for?" Ron asked, delighted.

Hermione snuggled in next to him, wrapping an arm tightly around his chest. She paused for a moment and then, half-laughing, replied, "It's a by-product of my being in love with you."


	5. Limelight and Firelight

"Blimey, another one?" Ron asked as he walked into the Burrow's kitchen and noticed the gift basket sitting on the table.

"We're not going to have any more room in this house if this kind of stuff keeps arriving," said Ginny. "And what are we supposed to do with all of these owls?"

Harry looked around the kitchen and the sitting room, which were both completely covered in gift baskets and bouquets. "I'm surprised your mum hasn't done something with them," he said.

"Yeah, I dunno..." said Ron. "Maybe she likes the effect it creates."

Hermione strode over to the newest gift basket and opened it to see what goodies it contained; aside from the usual sweets and treats, there were also a dozen tickets to an upcoming Harpies match and a handwritten thank you note.

"Hmmm. This man says he's the manager of the Holyhead Harpies and he'd like to offer us season tickets to all of their matches," Hermione told the other three, whose eyes grew large with excitement. "And," she continued, "he's vowed to name his first child after one of 'The Great Ones.'"

Ron and Ginny looked delightfully flustered. "Wow," said Ron. "Wonder which name he'll choose?"

"Hopefully not mine," said Hermione, "unless he thinks his kid will be able to spell a Greek name by the age of five."

"Yeah, well, maybe she'll take after you and learn how to spell it by age three," Ginny teased.

"And if she still can't spell her name by the age of seven, they could always change it to 'Ron,'" said Ron. "It's not exactly hard to spell, and it could probably pass for a unisex name."

Hermione and Ginny laughed, but Harry did not join in: he felt exasperated by the mention of that newly-fashioned title: "The Great Ones." Ever since Rita Skeeter's latest piece for the Daily Prophet had appeared, which had been an all-inclusive, in-depth, sixteen-page spread about the defeat of Lord Voldemort, The Burrow had received dozens of gift baskets and letter upon letter of thanks from witches and wizards everywhere. The article had been almost entirely accurate; Rita had certainly done her homework and interviewed everyone from the doormen at Gringotts Bank to the people who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. There were some gaping holes in the story, due to the fact that Harry himself had not granted Rita an interview, but it had been good enough to satisfy most of the wider wizarding world. The story included some of Rita's usual antics, of course (_"I've known Potter for years now," says Cormac McLaggen, 19, fellow Hogwarts alumnus, "and I'm not surprised that he turned out to be the real deal. We were best mates at school—in fact, you could probably say that I taught him some of his skills."_), but on the whole, it had been very informative and even a bit touching.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were adjusting to their new fame, were pleasantly surprised by most of the response the article had garnered. Rita had zeroed in on Ron and Hermione, Harry's "unwavering pillars of support," but had also focused on Ginny, Neville, and Luna, lumping them in with Harry, Ron, and Hermione to form "The Celebrated Six." And then, of course, there had been the mention of nearly every other person who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts: the teachers, the students, Dumbledore's Army, The Order, the Weasley's...and Rita had christened all of these fighters "The Great Ones,"a term that had caught on with the general wizarding population.

"D'you reckon someone might send us Cannons tickets?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Dream on," said Ginny. "Anyone in their right mind would consider it rude to give us season passes to the worst team in the league."

Ron scowled.

"You know what's funny," said Hermione, "is that some of these people have written us several times over the years. I'm almost positive that this woman"—she held up a violet piece of paper from a package laying on the counter—"chewed me out for 'toying with Harry's heart' when Rita published that one story during fourth year!"

"Weird," said Harry, raising his eyebrows comically. "Anyway, who's still up for Quidditch?"

Though Hermione didn't seem eager to play, Ron and Ginny expressed enthusiasm at the idea, and so the four of them made their way out the back door, into the broom shed, and over to the orchard where the Weasley's had been playing Quidditch for years.

Harry was the first one to notice something unusual. As he and his companions approached the orchard, he saw a gaggle of teenagers hanging out around the outskirts of the trees, chatting loudly. As soon as they caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, the whole lot of them started pointing and whispering. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked at Harry sympathetically and shrugged.

Harry tried his best to ignore the group and led the way into the orchard. He and Ron came to a stop in the middle of it and were just about to sort out the teams when loud giggling sounds made Harry realize that the group of onlookers had followed them into the orchard.

"Just ignore them, Harry," said Hermione under her breath.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Think it's that easy, Hermione? They're not just here to see me."

"What do you mean?"

A series of clicking noises made all four of them whip around: the group of teenagers had pulled out cameras and were unabashedly taking pictures of Harry and his friends.

"Can we _help_ you?" Ron asked loudly.

They endured a few more seconds of giggling before one of the teenagers was pushed forward by her fellows. "Are you...are you Ron Weasley?" she asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Ron. "What of it?"

The girl blushed. "Could I...could I get my p-picture taken with you?"

Ron looked startled. He stared at Harry, who couldn't help smirking. "Go on, Ron."

Ron looked back at the girl. "Er—sure."

All hell broke loose: the gang of teenagers, both girls _and_ boys, let out squeals of excitement and rushed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all begging to have their pictures taken.

"I hear you're the smartest girl who's ever lived," a wide-eyed girl said breathlessly to Hermione. "Is it true that when your mum was pregnant with you, she took a potion that would increase the size of your brain?"

Hermione was so caught off guard that she couldn't even register what a silly question this was. "My mum is a Muggle," she said stupidly.

"Where's that dragon?" one of the boys asked. "Where's the dragon you stole from Gringotts? Someone said you were keeping it in your backyard!"

"Ron! Ron! Will you sign my arm?"

"Wow, Harry, your girlfriend _is_ hot!"

"Enough!" yelled Harry. "One at a time! You!" he pointed at the girl who had originally spoken to Ron. "Do you want your picture with him or not?"

"Y-yes," said the girl timidly.

"Well then give me your camera," Harry said brusquely.

She handed it to him and went to put her arm around Ron as her friends all gasped appreciatively. Harry looked through the lens, saw Ron smiling uncertainly, saw Hermione frowning behind him, saw the girl grinning as if she had just won a million Galleons, and took a quick picture.

"There you go," said Harry, shoving it back in her hands. "Now please leave, all of you, so we can play Quidditch in peace."

The teenagers looked disappointed and even somewhat affronted, but they obeyed Harry and trotted out of the clearing. As soon as they were past the trees, Hermione cast her old protective enchantments, which she had never thought she would have to use again, around the orchard.

"Bloody freaking hell," said Ron, rubbing his upper arm, which had been grabbed several times. "How did they know we would be here?"

"Rita mentioned in that article where your family lives, Ron," said Hermione. "They've probably been scoping out the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of us."

"Well then why didn't they just show up at our house?"

Hermione frowned. "Did you not hear the conversation Kingsley had with your parents the other day?"

"No," said Ron, "I was playing chess with Harry."

Hermione sighed. "Kingsley and some people from the Ministry set up enchantments around The Burrow so that no one can come and gawp at your family. They made it unplottable and everything. Your parents thought it was best, considering how much Rita wrote about you and Ginny and your entire family in that article."

Ron looked dumbfounded. He turned to Harry.

"You know, mate," he said in a solemn voice, "I finally get it now."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "I've been trying to tell you for years."

"Well, I'm okay with all of this," said Ginny.

"You are?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Ginny with a twinkle in her eye. "That one fourteen year old said I was hot. What more could I want out of life?"

Harry grinned appreciatively at her. "You're something else, Gin."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Enough, lovebirds. Let's get flying."

When they returned home several hours later, Mrs. Weasley gave them some welcome news.

"We're eating outside tonight," she told the four of them. "This kitchen is far too crowded with gift baskets and wine bottles and who knows what else, so I thought we'd have a cookout in the garden. Bill, Fleur, Andromeda, and Teddy will be coming, and Kingsley's going to stop by, too. If you want to invite Neville or Luna or any of your other friends, we could make a little party out of it!"

"That sounds great, Mum, thanks!" said Ginny. She turned to Hermione excitedly. "We'll have to message everyone with our Galleons, what do you think?"

"Definitely," said Hermione. "I've left mine upstairs, let's go get it."

And without a further word to their boyfriends, the two girls hurried out of the kitchen.

Ron looked at Harry. "Do you still have your D.A. Galleon?" he asked.

Harry snorted. "I think it would be easier for me to find an eighth Horcrux than find that," he told Ron. "I've no idea what I've done with it."

"Alright, good," said Ron. "Because I lost mine ages ago."

"We best not tell Hermione," said Harry.

"No, definitely not," Ron agreed.

Mrs. Weasley tutted. "You two..." she said. "I'm not sure how Hermione managed to make it through an entire year with you."

And before Ron could reply, she had shoved bowls of fruit into his and Harry's hands and ordered them to take them outside.

The barbecue that night was probably the most fun anyone had had in a long while. Mr. Weasley was a natural on the grill, even despite his attempts to cook the first few burgers the Muggle way ("Arthur!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "This is not the time! Put that wand to work!"). Hermione and Ginny had managed to contact several members of the D.A., so Neville, Luna, Dean, and Seamus showed up, as well as Lee Jordan and Angelina, whom George had asked to come along. Andromeda Tonks came with baby Teddy and gladly passed him along to Harry to hold; the late Ted Tonks' niece, Audrey, who had been helping out with the baby, also attended and immediately struck up a conversation with Percy. Kingsley was a bit late to dinner, but he brought Hagrid and Aberforth in tow, and everyone was pleased to see them. Bill and Fleur brought buckets full of firewhiskey with them when they arrived, and everyone was also pleased to see _those_.

All in all, thought Harry, it was quite like his seventeenth birthday the previous summer, except much better.

Little Teddy Lupin was nearly two months old now. He lay contentedly in Harry's arms, his hair a bright turquoise color and quite as plentiful as Harry's. Ginny was tickling his toes and saying things in baby-talk, earning the occasional smile from the infant.

"He likes you, Ginny," said Harry.

Ginny looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, but he likes you even more," she said. "Look how peaceful he is when you hold him."

Harry looked down at Teddy and felt an immense sadness mingled with a profound joy. The little boy was not yet old enough to know the misfortune he had already suffered; and yet, thought Harry, he would grow up with a loving godfather, an adoring grandmother, and an abundance of surrogate aunts and uncles. Harry only hoped this would suffice.

Ginny seemed to know what he was thinking. She looked at him steadily and twined her fingers in his jet-black hair. "If you love him, Harry, he'll turn out fine."

Harry nodded and looked down at Teddy before looking back up at Ginny. "I just hope I can love him half as much as I love you."

Ginny gave him her blazing look, which was the only thing he needed in the world, and kissed him as he held his godson.

Ron and Hermione were sitting a little ways away from the party, watching everyone gathered around the bonfire that George and Lee had set up. Hermione smiled as she watched Harry and Ginny's exchange.

"I'm so happy they can finally be together," she said quietly, her eyes trained on her two friends.

Ron nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's nice."

Hermione looked around at him. "Nice? Really? Did I just hear the protective big brother say it's nice?"

Ron smiled and rubbed her back. "I'm okay as long as they're both okay. Although I'd rather think about other nice things. Like the fact that you and I can finally be together."

Hermione expected she would never tire of hearing him say things like that. She placed her hand on his knee and smiled at him. "Yes, that's a very nice thing."

Ron smiled at her and turned back around to face the fire. They both sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the interactions of their friends and family and feeling mesmerized by the dancing flames. Hermione felt so relaxed that she finally gave voice to the one thing she had been needing to say for more than a week now.

"Ron?" she said before she could stop herself.

"Yeah?"

Hermione bit her lip. "You know I need to go to Australia, right?"

Ron frowned. "Yeah, of course I know that. Why?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh," she said with surprise. "I didn't realize you'd thought about it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "_Hermione_," he said exasperatedly, "I'm not _that _thick. Just because I have the emotional range of a—what was it, a teaspoon?—doesn't mean I haven't thought about your needs."

"Really?" she said, still somewhat awestruck.

Ron laughed. "Merlin, Hermione, we're a couple now, remember? It's my job to think about stuff like this."

"Wow, Ron, I'm truly impressed."

"Yeah? Points for me?"

"Points for you," she confirmed.

"Wonderful," said Ron. "Now are you going to ask me to come with you or what?"

She was, if possible, even more taken aback. "You want to come with me?"

Ron stared at her like she had gone mad. "You're really not getting this concept, are you?" he asked. "I"—he pointed at himself—"am your boyfriend. That means we"—he pointed between the two of them—"do everything together, because we love"—he made a heart shape with his hands—"each other. Now, does that make sense?"

Hermione was laughing. "Alright, Professor, I understand," she told him. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think you'd want to leave your family to travel all the way to Australia with me, especially after everything that's happened. That's why I didn't even bring it up until now."

Ron brushed the hair out of her eyes and then ran his hand down her cheek and to her chin, positioning her face towards him. "I want to go with you," he told her clearly. "You've been with me through everything that's happened here and now I want to go to Australia with you so we can find your parents and bring them home."

Hermione looked straight into his eyes and saw the determination and assertiveness in them. And although she, Hermione Granger, was all about female independence, she couldn't resist a man with backbone.

"I'm so in love with you," she whispered.

Ron still had his hand on the side of her face. "And I you," he said with a wide smile. Blue eyes locked on brown ones, and then Ron, in his assertiveness, brought Hermione's face close to his and kissed her, and the only things that mattered were the glow of firelight and the taste of firewhiskey.

* * *

Author's Note: Holy heavens, I actually updated! Who knew? Well I tried to start another story but it didn't get much of a response, so I finally cracked and decided to continue with AWW. I'm thinking of just combining them, actually, since the one thing I really don't like about this story is just the first chapter. We'll see what happens! Until then, please review! And I'm sorry this has taken me so long :)

xx Kelly

* * *


	6. Toddler Tonic

Author's Note: Welcome to the newly revamped and updated version of All Was Well! I've been working for several days now to fix this story so that I am satisfied with it and so you, the readers, have even more content to read! I therefore recommend going back and re-reading the story before you read this chapter, because I added an entire slew of things to Chapters 1 and 2, and even a bit to 3 and 4. Chapter 1 is now the longest chapter in the story, but it's also one of my favorites. I tried to retain most of the reviewers' favorite parts while still editing the content to suit my liking. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

By half past twelve, the party still hadn't died down.

Harry stared around at the merry-makers. George was sitting dangerously close to Angelina, having a whispered conversation with her while Lee looked around like he was bored. Percy was holding a glass of Firewhiskey; his face was flushed as he spoke enthusiastically with Audrey, who apparently shared his interest in international diplomacy. Arthur and Molly were about ten feet away from where Harry, Ginny, Dean, Luna, Neville, and Seamus sat; they were swaying in the moonlight, despite the absence of music. Andromeda, Teddy, Bill, Fleur, and Kingsley had all left, but Hagrid and Aberforth were still present, singing in loud drunken tones.

Ron and Hermione wandered over just then, holding hands and giggling.

"Budge up, Gin-in-ny," said Ron, "we want to sit down!"

"We want to be by the fire!" Hermione exclaimed, much like a child would have.

Seamus and Neville were roasting s'mores over the fire pit; Dean and Luna were totally oblivious to the arrival of two more people, as they were practically joint at the hip and speaking only to each other.

"Can someone make me a s'more!" Hermione asked much too loudly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows and glanced at Harry. Harry leaned towards Hermione and pretended to sniff her for traces of alcohol.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked. "You're being so silly!"

"How much have you had to drink, Hermione?" Harry asked her.

"Pfft," said Hermione, rocking back and forth a little bit, "like one drink!"

"One drink my arse," Ginny muttered under her breath.

"Here, Hermione," said Neville, handing her a s'more ("Oooh!" said Hermione, "Thanks!"). "Do you want one too, Ron?"

"I can't," said a stony-faced Ron, "I'm abs-staining from them. Luna says they'll make me break out! Keep them away!"

Ginny looked completely bemused. "What the hell has gotten into you?" she asked her brother.

Just then, Harry noticed something. "Gin, look..." he said, pointing over to the corner of the yard where George, Angelina, and Lee sat laughing.

Ginny turned and saw them too. "Oh, this is too good," she muttered, "I've got to find out what he did to them." She got up and headed in George's direction.

Harry caught Neville's and Seamus' eye to indicate he was about to have a spot of fun with Ron and Hermione. Seamus winked at him.

"So Ron," said Harry, "what were you and Hermione doing in the corner over there?"

Ron giggled. "I can't tell you, Harry! I don't kiss and tell!"

Hermione seemed to find this extremely amusing, because she snorted and doubled over with laughter. Seamus and Neville watched her, looking like they feared for her sanity.

"Hee hee!" said Ron. "Hermione thinks I'm funny!"

"You are funny!" said Hermione. "That was a funny joke! I wonder if the others get it?"

"No, Hermione, we have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said dryly.

"What did you just call me?" Hermione asked, suddenly angry.

"...Hermione?" said Harry.

"You can't call me that! That's what Ron calls me! You're stealing his pet name for me!"

"You bloody jerk!" said Ron.

Harry ignored Ron. "I'm sorry...girl," he said to Hermione. Neville and Seamus were shaking with silent laughter. "And what do you call Ron?"

Hermione looked at Ron like she wasn't sure what his name was. "I call him...Ronnie!" she yelled.

Harry couldn't help himself: he burst out laughing. He turned away from Ron and Hermione for a second to get himself back under control. When he turned back around to face his two friends, he collapsed into a renewed fit of laughter at the sight of Hermione with melted marshmallow all over her face. Seamus and Neville had noticed it too, and even Dean and Luna looked up and realized what was going on: all four of them were laughing uncontrollably.

"Why in the name of Merlin's balls is everyone laughing at me!" Hermione yelled.

"I think they're jealous of you!" Ron shouted. "Because you're so good at school!"

Ginny rejoined Harry just then, and as she caught sight of Hermione, she gave a great burst of laughter and crouched down in the grass, holding her mouth and giggling.

"Gin," said Harry, whose voice was shaking with mirth, "tell me: what did George do?"

Ginny gradually controlled herself and looked up at Harry. "He tripled the amount of alcohol in their drinks, and in addition to that, he added a drop of Toddler Tonic." At this, she fell back on the ground laughing. "Oh my God, I'm going to pee myself," she whispered between giggles.

"Come on, Miiiiiiney!" Ron shouted, pulling her up. "We don't need them! Let's go play on the swings!"

Hermione got to her feet immediately, swaying slightly as she did so. "I'll race you!" she screamed at Ron. "And I'll bet you I'll win!"

"No you won't! I'm the fastest person in the whole world!"

Hermione wasn't listening; she had already started running away. Ron bolted after her, still shouting that he was faster.

"The best part is," said Ginny, "we don't even have a swing set. I have no idea what he's on about."

Harry, Ginny, Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Luna were all crying with laughter by this point. They watched Ron and Hermione running around in the dark, looking for a nonexistent swing set. After about thirty seconds, neither one of them could even run anymore; they both stumbled around in the grass, not knowing what they were doing.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's attention was caught when Hermione full-on collapsed on the ground after having tripped over a rock. She shrieked and Ron stumbled over to her crying "I'll save you!"

Harry, Ginny, and the rest watched as the Weasley parents approached Ron and Hermione and interrogated them; Molly and Arthur both looked extremely confused until they glanced in George's direction and saw him laughing. Molly rolled her eyes, threw her hands to the heavens, and marched over to George, who unashamedly jumped out of his seat and ran away from her.

Arthur put an arm around both Ron and Hermione and steered them in the direction of the house. As he was passing the camp fire where his daughter and her friends sat, he stopped and said, "Well, you lot have fun. I'm going to go put _Ronnie_ and _Miney_ to bed so they can sleep off whatever they're on."

"Thanks, Daddy! You're the best!" Ron yelled.

Hermione said nothing; she merely looked at Ron and grinned, baring all of her teeth like she was a seven year old being told to say "Cheese."

"Good night, Ronnie," Ginny called, waving dramatically at him. "Good night, Miney. Sleep well."

Ron and Hermione looked over at Ginny somewhat confusedly. "Who's that lady?" asked Hermione.

"Alright, let's go," said Arthur, as the group surrounding the camp fire lost control of themselves once again.

* * *

Ginny woke up only because someone was calling her name softly.

"Ginny," came Hermione's voice from far away.

Ginny tried to ignore her.

"Ginny," Hermione said again, somewhat louder.

Ginny rolled over and opened her eyes. Hermione was laying in her camp bed, squinting at Ginny from beneath tousled hair and heavy eyelids.

"Ginny," Hermione said a third time, "I feel like a troll just stepped on my head."

"Well then keep sleeping and maybe you'll feel better," Ginny mumbled, shutting her eyes again.

She thought she had been successful in shutting her friend up, but after a minute Hermione said again, "Ginny?"

"WHAT," said Ginny, thoroughly aggravated this time.

"Sorry," said Hermione, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "I just had a question for you."

"Which would be what?"

"Did I have a lot to drink last night?"

Ginny finally cracked a smile. "What makes you think that, Her-_miney_?"

"Because I remember drinking some Firewhiskey, then I don't remember anything from the rest of the night, and now my head feels entirely too heavy."

"Well," said Ginny, "now you mention it, yes: George got you and Ron completely hammered."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "He didn't," she said quietly.

"Oh yes he did," said Ginny. "With alcohol and Toddler Tonic."

Hermione glanced down at her pillow in complete shock. "That prat," she whispered.

"Aw, don't worry, it was all good fun," Ginny assured her.

"What did I do?"

"Hmm. Well, you referred to Ron as 'Ronnie,' you got marshmallow all over your face, and you fell over in the grass, among other things."

Hermione looked mortified.

"Oh, and you also used the expression 'Merlin's balls'," Ginny added, "so apparently Ron's rubbing off on you."

Hermione still looked shocked, but a small trace of amusement also flickered across her face.

"Well," she said, "remind me to cast a few choice hexes on George later."

"I will," said Ginny, "but for now, I'm going back to sleep. And you should probably do the same, because no offense, but you look like hell."

Hermione smiled dazedly. "Thanks, Gin. I appreciate your concern."

* * *

Ron and Hermione, upon learning of the treatment they had received at George's hands the night previously, kept him on his toes all day long. Not only did Hermione turn his hair green without him knowing it, but Ron also added itching powder to his morning pumpkin juice, and both of them managed to make his fly unzip at least four times throughout the day.

"Just between you and me, Harry," George whispered sometime before dinner, "they're really giving me a run for my money, and I'm not used to it."

"They'll be over it by tomorrow, George," Harry told him, "they just want a small vengeance. I don't think they really care all that much."

"Right," said George, but he wasn't really listening: Hermione had just rounded the corner and was eyeing him beadily.

Ron and Hermione found Harry and Ginny later on that day and, after enduring a few more minutes of teasing from the latter two, told them of the decision they had reached the night before.

"Australia," said Harry thoughtfully, "sounds cool. I've never been there."

"What?" Hermione said in surprise. "You want to come too?"

"Isn't that why you're telling us?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, well, I didn't think you'd want to come, I was just letting you know the plan—"

"Don't be stupid," said Harry dismissively, "of course we want to come. When are we leaving?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not take the news quite so casually when Hermione announced it at dinner.

"Well of course we knew you would want to go, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, "but we need to think this through carefully. There are still Dark wizards out there, and I wouldn't be comfortable with any of you going unless we work this through with Kingsley first—"

"No problem," said Ron, "we can do that." He looked sideways at Hermione for her approval and she smiled.

"I'll ask him to come round tomorrow, then," said Arthur. "It's going to be a tedious thing to set up. We'll have to secure an international portkey for you to use, and those are much more difficult to use than continental ones."

"Can we not Apparate?" Harry asked.

"You could," said Mr. Weasley, "but it's much riskier. You have to have a lot of experience in order to get away with doing that, and even then, you've go to go to an Apparition Station so they can ensure there won't be any problems."

"Well, whatever would be easiest, Dad," said Ron.

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Like I said, I'll have Kingsley drop by tomorrow. He can help us figure something out. It will probably be good for you lot to get away from the country for a bit anyway, what with the intense focus the media is putting on you right now."

Mrs. Weasley looked anxious. "Maybe we should go with you," she said.

"Mum, we'll be fine," said Ron, "have you forgotten what we were doing all year? And that was with Voldemort on the loose!"

"I know, I know," said Mrs. Weasley. "Ginny, I'm not sure I want you to go."

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. "You can't be serious, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley frowned.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm going," said Ginny. "I didn't run off with them this past year, I went to school and was a good girl—well, somewhat of a good girl," she said, catching Harry's eye and grinning, "but the threat of danger isn't as great anymore, and I want to go with my friends."

"She's right, Molly," said Arthur, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his eyes. He noticed the glare his wife was giving him and carried on, "Look, I don't much like the idea either, but she's nearly seventeen now and she's right: the threat has pretty much abated. As long as Kingsley escorts them to the Granger's house, I don't see a problem."

"About that," said Hermione, "I'm not sure where my parents actually _are_. I just know they moved there, but I didn't give them specific instructions about which city to go to or anything. Is there a way the Ministry could help me to figure that out?"

"We should be able to," Arthur said, nodding his head. "We'll get in contact with the Australian Ministry and see what we can do."

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"The sooner, the better, Dad," said Ron, "she's been waiting a while now."

"I'm fine," said Hermione with a small jerk of the head.

Ron ignored her. "She hasn't seen them since last July," he told his father.

"I know," said Mr. Weasley. "I'll do everything in my power to make this happen as quickly as possible."

Hermione smiled her gratitude and was about to say thanks again when George caught the attention of the entire table.

"Mum!" he squealed. "I want more mashed potatoes!"

Mrs. Weasley stared at him. "Alright, Georgie, the bowl's right there, dear."

George shook his head. "Can you do it for me?"

The entire table turned to look at Ron and Hermione, who were smirking.

"Well," said Ron, "it's possible that I might have discovered his supply of Toddler Tonic when I ransacked his room earlier."

Harry was about to comment, but then George spilled Butterbeer all down his front, and everyone started laughing.

"Someone get him a bib," said Ron, "he'll be needing it for the next few hours."

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so that chapter wasn't all that long, but hopefully you went back and read the new versions of chapters 1,2,3, and 4 :) What do you think? I hope everyone is as satisfied with the updates as I am. As for this chapter: it doesn't achieve much, but I wanted to do something fun and amusing before they venture off to Australia. I myself had a fit of the giggles while I wrote the Ron and Hermione intoxication scene (it doesn't hurt that I was drinking a beer while writing that part). Please review and let me know what you think! And if there's anything you'd like to see in Australia, tell me!

p.s. Much thanks to Quise, my dear friend and make-shift beta, who helped me edit most of the new stuff from chapter 1! Can't wait to see you!


	7. A Reclaiming

It was the sight of the house that jolted her the most. When Hermione laid her eyes on the small place her parents had been living in for nearly a year, a dwelling in which they had carried out their lives, completely ignorant of their only daughter's predicament, she felt the emotion well up in her chest. The anticipation and nervous excitement had been present all day, from the moment she had woken up (had she really even slept?) to the moment she had grasped the Portkey with Ron, Ginny, Harry and Kingsley by her side, but now her emotions had morphed into something different. She had expected the jittery excitement: she had not expected to feel the need to sob.

"You alright there?" came Ron's voice.

Hermione couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the house. She nodded wordlessly.

"Shall we go in then, Hermione?" asked Harry delicately.

"Yeah..." she said slowly. "I'm just...I feel..."

"I know," came Harry's gentle voice.

Hermione glanced at her friend: he was giving her an understanding look, and suddenly she remembered that it had only been five months ago when she had accompanied him to the place his parents had lived, and what an emotional day that had been. Yet her parents were, by the grace of God, alive, and with this realization, and with Harry's pat on the back and Ron's hand in hers, she headed for the door of the house.

It was smaller than her home back in England, yet it was nice. It had a beachy feel to it, and she imagined the inside of it smelled like saltwater and sunscreen. How strange that her parents had taken up residence by the sea.

"Looks promising, Hermione," Ginny said as her eyes roved around the outside of the house.

"And this is definitely their place, Kingsley?" asked Harry.

Kingsley nodded patiently. "We're certain of it." He looked at Hermione questioningly, and when she nodded, he rapped on the door.

There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor, then footsteps could be heard approaching the door in a mere matter of seconds. Hermione's heart was hammering so fast that her breathing increased.

The door opened and a salt-and-pepper-haired man looked out and said, "Yes?"

Hermione's heart jumped to her throat and it was all she could do not to throw herself into her father's arms. Ron could sense this: he placed his arm around her body to steady her.

"Good day, Dr. Wilkins," said Kingsley's deep voice. "My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I work for the government. I was wondering whether I might have a word?"

Mr. Granger looked very confused. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh no, sir, quite the contrary," Kingsley returned cheerily. "It's your outstanding reputation in the dental industry that has me coming to call today. I've brought some university students, our most promising bunch—they're eager to find internships, and with the emphasis our government places on dental health and hygiene, we're eager to land them some. May we come in?"

Mr. Granger still looked overwhelmed and flustered, but he recovered his manners quickly. "Oh, yes, of course...please do...I'll go call my wife, she's a dentist too, as I'm sure you know."

Kingsley nodded as Mr. Granger bustled off down the hallway calling, "Monica!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny followed Kingsley into the house. It was a one-story place with a small kitchen and family room, but it had a beautiful blue porch that was accessible through at least four sliding glass doors. Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat themselves upon the couch, but Hermione walked around the house, studying it and searching for signs of familiarity. Almost at once, she found her father's newspaper, with the crossword puzzle half-completed. His reading glasses were laying on the table next to it.

"Do you like crossword puzzles, young lady?" her father asked as he shuffled back into the room, leading her mother behind him.

Hermione had to swallow the lump that rose in her throat at the sight of her mother. She blinked rapidly and said to her father, "Yes, they're very enjoyable, I find."

Her father bestowed a cursory smile on her before he settled himself in a cushy blue armchair and addressed Kingsley.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, this is my wife, Monica," he said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Kingsley, shaking hands. He then locked eyes with Hermione, who inched forward into the room, gazing at her parents.

Her mum and dad looked politely bemused and expectant as she walked toward them. In a kind of bizarre stupor, she pulled her wand out of her jeans and pointed it toward them. Before they had time to even look alarmed, she had opened her mouth and voiced two Stunning spells.

Her mother and father slumped into their chairs immediately. Hermione let out a sigh of relief and faced Kingsley and the other three.

"You know what to do now, Hermione?" Kingsley asked her.

She nodded and sat herself upon the glass coffee table that faced her parents' armchairs. She cleared her mind of superfluous, distracting thoughts and feelings, took a deep breath, and set to work.

It took her only a couple of minutes, but the atmosphere in the room was so intense that it seemed longer. Kingsley, Ron, Harry and Ginny sat motionless, hardly breathing. Hermione was conscious of their presence as she worked to restore her parents' memories, all the while trying to keep that one nightmarish thought at bay.

_What if..._the evil thought always began.

She shut down that brainwave before it could finish itself. She would _not_ think of the alternative, not now, not while she was so diligently working to make her family and her world whole again.

And finally she finished. Shaking slightly with feverish anticipation, she raised her wand and in two quick movements yelled, "Enervate!"

Her parents' eyes snapped open at the same time. They both looked disoriented for the slightest of seconds, and then—

"_Hermione!"_

She was engulfed in the same instant by her mother and father, who were hugging her and showering her with kisses, laughing delightedly. They couldn't understand why she was crying.

"Hermione, honey, what's wrong?" said her mum, drawing back and studying her face.

Hermione sniffed. "N-nothing," she stammered, "I've just missed you."

"Missed us?" said Dad. "Didn't we just see you yesterday?"

Hermione wiped at her eyes and looked at her father. "You probably want to sit down again, Dad," she said, "I have a long story to tell you, and you're not going to be very happy with me."

It took hours to relay the events of the past year to Hermione's parents. They sat with identical expressions on their faces: expressions Ron could not quite name. At some points they voiced their horror at certain things that had happened; at other points they were affectionately proud of Hermione. Yet overall, Ron had the sense that they almost felt somewhat betrayed—their only daughter, whom they loved, had prevented them from being able to love her for an entire year.

Ron almost wished that he, Harry, and Ginny had not been privy to the long exchange. Kingsley, who realized his presence would have made Hermione less candid, gracefully bowed out with the promise that he would return that evening. Ron would have done the same, but Hermione needed her three best friends there to help her fill in the gaps and to give legitimacy to her story, her claims, and her motivation for protecting her parents.

When she was finished, and while her parents still looked heartbroken and stunned, Hermione turned her attention to her friends. She looked pleadingly at Ron and he instantly understood what she needed.

"Do you think you could—" she began.

"Of course," said Ron, jumping to his feet. Nodding at Harry and Ginny, he said, "Let's go roam the beach." As they filed out of the room, he called back to Hermione, "Message me when it's alright for us to come back, okay?"

She gave him a loving smile. "Okay."

As he closed the door, Ron glanced at the scene in the room: Hermione was holding both of her parents' hands in hers; they shuffled their chairs closer towards her, and her mother bent her head down, praying for restoration.

* * *

Ron, Harry, and Ginny managed to entertain themselves for hours before Ron felt the fake Galleon from his fifth year suddenly warm in his pocket.

"Oh, hold on, this'll be Hermione," he told the other two, who were wolfing down their ice cream cones.

_Hi_, her message read, _Dramatic emotional scene over with. They're okay. Please come home? _

Ron smiled as he inscribed a message back: _Be there soon. I'll bring ice cream! Chocolate or vanilla?_

"Will you get that stupid grin off your face?" Ginny said to him. "You look like a moron."

"Shut it," said Ron as he received Hermione's reply: _Chocolate_. He started to walk back to the ice cream booth to buy another cone, but halfway there he received a follow-up message: _And thanks, Ron…both for the ice cream and for being so wonderful today. I love you._

His heart thumped as he read the words quickly. He had never seen her _write _"I love you" before, and actually seeing the words caused a different exhilaration in him than when he heard them spoken aloud. Feeling giddy, he paid for a chocolate cone and headed back toward Harry and Ginny.

"She says we can go back now," he told them. "Shall we Disapparate?"

"Yeah, that'll make things easier," said Harry. "Just make sure you don't mess up that cone."

The lights were still on in the house when they _Pop!_—appeared in the street a minute later. Ron wasn't sure if that meant Hermione's parents were in bed yet or not. The three of them ventured up the path to the door and Ron tapped upon it lightly.

Hermione opened it five seconds later. She looked weary but relieved and smiled at the sight of them. "How was the exploring?" she asked as they filed past her into the house, Ron handing her the ice cream cone in the process.

Harry shrugged. "Pretty cool. I'm looking forward to going back to the beach."

"We can go tomorrow," Hermione assured him.

"Did Kingsley come back?" Ron asked her.

"I did," came a booming voice. Startled, Ron looked around: Kingsley was seated at the kitchen table, drinking tea.

"Oh," said Ron stupidly, "Missed you there."

The four friends migrated to the table and sat themselves around Kingsley. He stared into his tea mug before raising his head and addressing them.

"We're going to leave it up to you four to decide when you want to return home," Kingsley explained. "There are procedures in place which will keep you protected—and believe me, you will certainly be watched."

Harry smiled humorlessly, but nodded his understanding.

"So we're here indefinitely?" Ginny asked. When Kingsley nodded she continued, "And my parents are okay with that?"

"Molly isn't jumping up and down, but she has other things to worry about," said Kingsley.

Ginny looked at Ron. "This might be some nice time for Mum and Dad, I guess. You know, to heal."

Ron shrugged uncomfortably: every time Fred was referenced, Ron felt like he was wearing an invisible coat that he needed to throw off right away.

"And Hermione's parents have been informed of everything that's going on?" Harry asked Kingsley.

"They have," he confirmed. "And they understand perfectly that this is still a delicate time. But frankly, staying in another country might be best for the four of you right now. It's not only safer, but it will probably keep you away from the media until things start to calm down somewhat."

They asked him a few logistical questions for the next few minutes and then Kingsley rose from his chair, heeded them to be ever-vigilant, and took his leave. The Grangers had already gone to bed, emotionally depleted and exhausted. Hermione was left to play hostess: she showed her friends the two extra bedrooms which the four of them would be staying in.

"I'm guessing we can find extra pillows and blankets in the closets," she said uncertainly, "but really, just help yourselves. I feel like a stranger here right now, too."

"Oh, Hermione," said Ginny, putting an arm around her waist and hugging her. "Everything's going to go back to normal soon enough. We're going to have fun. I promise you."

Hermione returned the hug but looked at Ron. He knew she wanted to unwind from the stress.

"Come on," said Ron, pulling her by the hand and leaving Harry and Ginny behind, "Let's go relax on the couch."

They headed back into the family room, where Hermione collapsed on the sofa, kicking her shoes off and adjusting the pillow below her neck. Ron made his way into the kitchen and foraged for tea bags, kettle, and mug, then set about making tea.

After fixing the kettle, he turned around and saw her watching him, a tired but pleasant smile on her face.

"When did you get so domestic?" she asked him.

Ron laughed. "I'm not domestic, Hermione," he said. "I just want to take care of you."

She beamed. Her fingers extended toward him, so he walked into the family room, sat himself on the coffee table across from her, and grasped her hand.

"It was a long day, wasn't it?" he asked her.

She shook her head yes, like he was her father talking to her after a rough day at school.

"Did it go over well with your parents?"

Hermione's eyes roved around the room as she composed her answer.

"They're upset with me," she told him. "Upset that I put myself in so much danger and kept them out of my life. But I think they understand. They said this is all really painful, but that they're really proud of me and are so happy I'm okay."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped at her eyes. Ron rubbed her fingers with his hands. The tea kettle sounded from the kitchen.

He brought her the mug of tea and she gratefully took a sip. Ron kicked off his trainers and climbed over her body so that he could lay down next to her on the inner side of the couch. She placed her hand in his hair at once, and he snuggled into her side, claiming her waist with his arm and resting his head somewhere between her neck and her breasts.

"Thank God you're here," Hermione whispered into his hair.

He responded by clutching her more tightly.


End file.
